


Angel

by TheRealSokka



Category: Enderal (Video Game)
Genre: Companionship, F/F, Heroes Having Some Downtime, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know when this got so long, I just adore Calia okay?, Missing Scene, Pre-Starcity, monster hunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 31,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26719879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealSokka/pseuds/TheRealSokka
Summary: After what happened at Castle Dal'Galar, Calia was very glad to have something to occupy herself with. Hunting down a murderous creature in the Undercity should be straightforward enough, right? Well, not if her stubborn friend of a Prophetess gets involved.
Relationships: Jespar Dal'Varek & Calia Sakaresh, Jespar Dal'Varek & Prophet | Prophetess, Prophet | Prophetess/Calia Sakaresh
Comments: 14
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

Being a keeper was what Calia Sakaresh had always wanted to be. It was what she had been preparing for ever since she had been eight years old, and what she was good at. At least she thought she was, whenever she could push the ever-present doubts away for long enough. She fulfilled her duty with energy and conviction – even the revelation of the Lightborn’s death had not changed that. Wearing the red and gold armour meant she stood for something that was bigger than them or her; for an ideal. Most of the time, she took great pride in it, too.

Occasionally, though, being a Keeper could also be extremely frustrating.

“Alright.” she sighed. “Maybe we should start from the top again. So, you went home from the False Dog and you heard a strange noise…”

“Big noise!” confirmed the fence, making an elaborate hand gesture to underline his point. “Came r-right from the deepesht depsch of the Tar Pi- Piss. Almost made me drop me bottle!”

_I wish it had_ , Calia thought remorsefully. The man had not stopped swaying from side to side ever since this conversation started and she had to resist the urge to grab him by the shoulders and hold him still. Alcohol really did some strange things to people. “Could you describe that noise? Was it a man? A vatyr?” _Any helpful information, really, other than trying to hit on me again…_

“Tell you what s-sweetheart.” The man leaned forward, which almost made him loose his balance, and gestured with his half-empty bottle. “Why don’t you come with to me abode and I’ll tell ya all about this…this…whateveritis you wanna know.”

“No thanks. I’ll just – ask around. Walk blessed.” Calia turned around on the spot and started walking away, down the narrow alleyway. She didn’t know where it lead – the Undercity was a damned maze – but she had to get away from this guy. Just as she rounded the corner, she heard a sharp splintering sound behind her, and then a dull thud. The wine bottle hitting the ground, followed by its owner.

_Right_. So far, her spontaneous, unauthorized excursion wasn’t going well, she had to admit. She had thought that the people of the Undercity would be more interested in assisting her with her murder inquiry – it concerned one of their own, after all –, but apparently not. The first prostitute she’d questioned hadn’t even known what she was talking about, but instead attempted to seduce her. The Rhalata watchdog by the market had just taken one look at her armour and spit at her feet. And this drunkard – well, just a repetition of the prostitute, really, only less eloquent. Calia gave a frustrated grunt. Perhaps she should have stayed in the scuola and continued decapitating training dummies. She was a soldier, not a detective. This wasn’t going to lead anywhere.

But, if nothing else, the Undercity at least provided some distraction. And Calia needed that, badly, after what had happened at Castle Dal’Galar. If she’d stayed in the temple, with nothing to do, she knew all too well that she would have drowned in her thoughts. And now was not the time for that.

There never was time.

She reached a small square, with a handful of people milling about and sitting at a bar that was tucked away in an alcove. Squaring her shoulders, she decided to try her luck with the bar keeper. The woman at first just looked at her blankly. “People die down here all the time. Never brought a Keeper down here before.” she stated, raising an eyebrow. “What, was this one your secret lover or something, sun-child?”

“No.” Calia said. “I just want to help. That man was murdered. There were reports of other miners who have also died in that section over the last week, and…”

“Oh, spare us the act.” the bar keeper sneered. “As if you lot suddenly cared. But then neither do the Rhalata. So tell you what; if you want to know so badly, a few coins might nudge my memory. Say…30 pennies, and I’ll point you to the man’s widow and you can pester her. Hm?”

“…Fine.” Calia conceded through clenched teeth. She reached into her tunic and handed over the money. She had to fight the urge to throw them in the woman’s face, instead. Six men had been killed, one just yesterday, and all these people thought about was how to get something out of it for themselves. Never mind justice and catching the killer. The people of Ark and the Undercity weren’t actually that different, though they liked to constantly boast otherwise, she thought, feeling her anger flare up again. They just cared about themselves. Maybe everyone did. Maybe she was delusional to think she could make any difference at all.

She forced herself to shut down that train of thought. It was feeding into the worst part of her, which she could not afford. Not now, not ever. She quickened her pace, following the directions the woman had given her. At least she was doing something. As long as she didn’t reach a dead end, she’d keep going.

“You didn’t even haggle!” a young, indignant voice called to her from behind.

Calia turned around. Looking down, she saw a small girl in a dirty brown dress staring up at her. She had crossed her arms, her mouth set in that stubborn way that only children could do. “You have to haggle. Mommy always asks for too much. You can talk her down to 20. Sometimes even 15.” she said.

Calia relaxed. “You’re the bar keeper’s daughter?” The girl nodded. “Well, I’m on a mission, and I figured just paying would be less trouble.”

“But it’s no fun that way. And next time, she’ll ask you for 50.” The girl pouted. “And anyway, that widow woman won’t tell you anything. She was at the bar all day drinking, and when she drinks she doesn’t like talking.”

That brought a frown to Calia’s face. “Is that so?” Of course the bar keep must have known that as well. She truly was terrible at reading people, wasn’t she? “Thank you for telling me.” she said to the girl. Looking her once over, she noticed that she wasn’t wearing shoes. Her bare feet were all blistered and covered in slime from the canal. Calia’s frustration melted a little and she knelt down to be at eye level. “But if that means your mother will have some more money left over, that will be good, won’t it?”

“No.” The girl’s shoulders slumped. “She just buys this glittery stuff they put in bottles. It makes her eyes go wide and she doesn’t hear me when I talk to her. But she likes it so much. That’s why she makes so high prices.” She looked up at Calia, suddenly looking anxious. “She says the masked men are robbers and scum, but she robs people too, doesn’t she? She just asks nicer.”

Calia didn’t know what to reply to that. She shouldn’t say anything bad about her mother, but this child was more perceptive than she would have thought possible for a – how old was she; five; six? And yet she had summed up this place perfectly. Calia felt a rush of affection for the girl. “You know, a lot of people are robbers and liars.” she tried. She gave her a smile. “But not everyone. And you’re not to blame for your mother. Thank you again for telling me the truth.”

The girl beamed up at her. “You’re nice.” she decided. She looked over Calia’s outfit and an openly curious look spread over her face. “You’re a keeper, aren’t you?!”

“Well spotted.” she nodded. _Though for how much longer, I don’t know_. “My name is Calia.”

“I’m Malishe. But Lennard always calls me Mali.” Malishe bounced up and down on the balls of her feet restlessly. “Say, keepers help people on the surface, don’t they? Would you help me?”

“I…” Calia faltered, caught off guard. She was on a murder investigation, and that took priority. Setting priorities was one of the first things you learned as a novice. She couldn’t just wander off to help some girl she’d just met, could she?

Malishe read into her pause. “Please?” she begged. “I’ll even pay you! I can sneak into mommy’s room and get back the coins you paid too much. She wouldn’t even notice when she’s had the glitter dust…”

“Hey, you don’t have to pay me.” Calia protested. “I’ll help you.” she decided spontaneously. It had suddenly dawned on her that this girl was the first to un-ironically ask for her help. _Well, except for one other person_. That had to count for something. Maybe she could at least do something good for one person, no matter how small it might be. Screw priorities. “What do you need help with?”

Malishe beamed. “I knew you’d help me! The masked men don’t like you, so I knew you’d be good.” Her bouncing stopped and she started rubbing her arms seemingly without realizing it. Suddenly she looked pensive. “I lost Loram yesterday. I dropped him in the pit when we were playing. Could you get him back up?”

“Hold on, who’s Loram?”

“My horse.” Malishe explained. “Lennard carved him for me and he wanted to call him Malphas. But I named him Loram; you know, for the warrior. Malphas is stupid.” More arm rubbing. “But he fell into the pit and I was afraid to climb after him. I’m scared of the Shadow.”

“The shadow?” Calia perked up. A tingle went down her spine; a vague unease. “What do you mean?”

“It was down there. Down in the pit. I didn’t see it well, but it wasn’t a miner. It was bigger. And it made awful noises. And it walked up and down the pit, like it was looking for something.” Malishe shivered. “Lennard and I ran before it could see us.”

“That’s good. You did well.” Calia promised her. She hesitated for a second before placing her hands on the girl’s shoulders in an attempt to reassure her. “Malishe, this might be important for my mission, too. Where exactly is that shaft where you saw the Shadow?”

“Down in the Tar Pit. The first one behind the big wheels. We always sneak out to play there.”

Precisely where the dead miners were found. Calia felt a rush of anticipation. This was unlikely to be a coincidence. So she was dealing with a monster; a ‘shadow’, not a murderer. That was good. A monster was a good, uncomplicated problem that she could deal with. A chance to do something undeniably good for a change. “Then that is where I’m going. I’ll take care of that shadow.” she promised. “And if I find him, I’ll bring your – Loram back as well.”

“Thank you!” Malishe gave her the brightest smile she had ever seen. The girl hugged her leg, before reluctantly stepping away. “I should get back, before mother misses me. Loram’s brown with a red stripe, you won’t miss him.” After a couple of steps she turned around again. “Be careful, mydame. The Shadow was really big.” Then she raced off, disappearing into a dark alleyway.

Calia remained where she stood for a long moment, looking after her. She knew she should be preparing for the fight that she was certain was coming, but all she could think about was the little girl’s bare feet. Such a small detail, especially amidst the general squalor of the Undercity, but for some reason her mind refused to let it go.

_Stop it. That’s not your mission_.

Huffing in frustration, she turned to walk away, only to stop after a few steps when she realized that she didn’t know how to get to the Tar Pit from here. She should have asked for directions. But no matter; she’d find her way somehow. She recalled that the Rhalata were especially protective of the Pit, which was why she had avoided visiting the scene of the murders before she had at least a few more details. Perhaps she should just take off her armour and pretend to be a civilian, she considered. It might be worth a try, to avoid potential trouble…

Calia tensed. Her thought process ground to a halt. Suddenly she had felt a distinct prickling sensation on the back of her neck, like she was being watched. She had not heard anyone approach. Casting about for the source, she stopped at the alley that the girl had just disappeared in. Someone was watching her from the shadows, a dark silhouette she could barely make out in the dim glow of the mushrooms that covered the walls. Out of reflex, her hand reached behind her back for her sword hilt. “Who are you?” she called out.

“…Calia?” answered a female voice. The silhouette stepped out of the shadows. They seemed to only reluctantly let her go; it was as if the darkness clung to her black-and-gold robes and cowl. Underneath, Calia spied olive skin and bright, emerald-like eyes that were looking back at her in open surprise. The other woman cocked her head. “Well, I’ll be. It is you. What in blazes are you doing down here?”

“Sa’ira?” Calia took a half-step back. Instinctively, her walls pulled up. Her – friend – was the last person she had wanted to see when she set out. “I could ask you the same thing. Aren’t you supposed to be with the grandmaster and that Starling, fixing his airship?”

“I am, yes.” Rhena confirmed. “But I’ve gotten everything they needed me to get and, truth be told, I’m not much of an expert when it comes to Starling technology. While they get it ready I’d just be standing around uselessly. And I had some…things I had to tie up, too.” She looked quizzically at Calia. “But anyway, I asked you first. No offense, but I hadn’t expected to run into the brightest keeper of the Order down here.”

Against her will, Calia felt a blush creep up her neck. Rhena always did this; saying things that she never knew how to reply to. Nice things. Even now. And the worst part was that she didn’t even seem to notice it half the time. “I’m hunting a beast. It killed a couple of miners in the Tar Pit.” she stated shortly.

“Oh? I wasn’t aware the Order dispatched keepers to deal with such problems down here.”

“They…don’t.”

“So… you’re not here on orders, but privately.” Rhena grinned. “How come? Did you turn mercenary while I was away?”

Calia bristled. “I’m not doing this for money. I…”

“Relax, I was just teasing. No offense again, but you’re about the last person I could imagine as a ruthless bounty hunter.” Rhena leaned against the wooden beams behind her. “So, you heard of these killings and decided that since the Order won’t, you’d do something about it. Is that more on the mark?”

“More or less.” Calia confirmed, not without a sense of guilt. Rhena made it sound so noble, when for her it was just an elaborate way to escape her problems, really.

“Thought that sounded more like you. I guess I’m just surprised that you still have the energy for this after all that’s happened in the last few days.”

There was a slight, sudden stutter in the prophetess’ voice at the last few words. It was almost unnoticeable, but by now Calia caught those little things immediately – she had spent long enough listening to her voice, after all; longer than any other’s probably.

And in combination with Rhena suddenly avoiding her eyes, it was clear that she had just remembered what ‘the last few days’ entailed. Just like Calia had.

She caught herself trying to twist her fingers nervously, and secured them firmly in her belt. “Well, I’m fine.” she said tersely.

“Yeah.” Rhena drummed her fingers against the beams. “Just the world about to end, right?” She glanced up at Calia through her lashes. “Hey, would it be alright if I tagged along on that beast hunt of yours?”

“What? Why?” Calia demanded. She hoped her voice didn’t betray her sudden fear.

“Because I enjoy your company?” Rhena gave a thin smile. “And because, as a practical measure, two keepers are better than one to deal with this?”

Calia caught the hint of something else in her voice. A suspicion grew in her mind. “Sa’ira? Is it really a coincidence that you’re down here?” she wanted to know.

“I didn’t follow you, if that’s what you’re asking. I had no idea you were here. But you’re right; I’m not here for sightseeing, either.” Seemingly without her noticing, small flickers of flame started to dance around Rhena’s fingers, leaving dark burn marks in the wooden beams. If Calia didn’t know her better, she’d have thought she looked – pensive. But her Sa’ira was never pensive. It had to be a trick of the light. “Funny how things come together sometimes.” Rhena mused. “I was also going down to hunt that monster in the pit. I’ve been meaning to take care of him for a while, actually, but…” She gestured vaguely. “Well. You know. World-ending threats and all that.”

“Him?” Calia noted. She didn’t even bother masking her surprise. “So you know what’s in that pit? What killed the miners?”

Rhena nodded. She reached into her backpack – that mystifying backpack of infinite storage space – and pulled out a strange object. It was made of bones and some kind of dark metal. “It took me a long time, but I’ve finally gotten my hands on this.” she said.

“What is it?” Calia eyed it uneasily. The thing was giving off a vague sense of dread. “A totem?”

“Precisely. One that will allow us to actually defeat that thing in the pit.” Rhena quickly stuffed the totem back into her backpack, seemingly as uncomfortable with it as Calia was. “Do you know the myth of the Blind Miner?”

“Oh.” Calia’s breath came in an exhale. She did, indeed. As a novice, she had devoured at least half the Chromicum’s hoard of books in her eagerness to learn. The story of the Blind Miner was one that had stuck with her long after she had put down the book; mainly for its gruesomeness. “You’re saying he’s real, and he’s who killed the miners.” she surmised. That feeling of dread was back, now not so vague anymore. The story had unsettled her back then and it still did now. “I don’t remember it saying something about a totem to defeat him, though.”

“I didn’t either when I first came across him. But now I know better, and I’ve got it.”

“So, what; you were just going to go down there and beat a monster whose story has terrified little children for decades?” A part of Calia couldn’t help but find this amusing. “Just like that, no fanfare, nothing.”

The other woman raised an eyebrow. “You sound so surprised.”

“I’m not. Not really.” Calia shook her head in bemusement. “It sounds like you, now that I say it out loud.”

“Thanks. I think.” Rhena resolutely pushed off the wall and walked up to her. “So, I better get going. You don’t have to come, though. You should rest up, anyway, before the big mission starts.”

“What? No!” Calia protested. Did her Sa’ira seriously think she’d let her fight that monster by herself? Her hand shot out and grasped Rhena’s wrist as she tried to walk past her. “I’m coming with you. I’m rested and I’m ready.” she stated firmly.

Rhena turned to her. Her comely face was creased with worry. “I know you are. But you don’t have to.”

“Obligation has nothing to with it.” Looking at her up close, Calia noticed that it wasn’t just the creases. There were dark circles underneath her companion’s eyes, like she hadn’t slept in days. “You are the one who looks like she needs rest!” it burst out of her. She had to resist the urge to run her fingers over those bruises and smooth them out of Rhena’s dark skin.

“Nonsense. I’m doing great.” the other muttered.

“Sa’ira.”

“…Fine.” Rhena relented. “Once we’re done here, I’ll take a nap. Probably. But I have to finish this first.” She pried Calia’s fingers away from her wrist. “I suppose I can’t convince you to sit this one out, can I?”

“No.” Calia confirmed.

“Well, then let’s go. No point in waiting.” Rhena gestured down the alley. “You ever been to the Tar Pit?”

“Not yet, no.”

“Follow me.”

The tunnels that led down from the Undercity market were damp and mouldy, and only very sparsely illuminated. One had to watch were to put one’s feet. As they descended deeper into the depths, Calia wished she had thought to bring a torch. As if she had read her thoughts, Rhena’s hand started to glow and a moment later a white orb of light hovered above them, illuminating the path ahead. Despite herself, Calia felt her lips curve in a smile. She would never get used to how casually the other woman used her magic now. It was hard to believe that only weeks before she had been a Pathless without anything special about her at all, to hear her tell it.

It was just one of the many contradictions that comprised her Sa’ira, Calia mused. She claimed to work for money, like the mercenary, yet Calia had never seen her turn down a task, no matter how insignificant or unprofitable it seemed. She was called the Prophetess, yet was one of the least religious people she had ever met. She was on a mission to save the world, yet routinely made time to talk with anybody, including her. Even when Calia explicitly tried to push her away.

She shivered, and it had nothing to do with the damp. Even now a part of her whispered that this was a mistake; that she should run as far away from this woman as possible. If she stayed, sooner or later she would end up hurting Rhena, or worse. At Castle Dal’Galar, she had come so very close. If Rhena had been in the room when she lost control… Calia pressed her eyes shut, refusing to even entertain the thought. Yes, it would have been better for the both of them if they had just never spoken to each other again after what happened in Old Dothulgrad. But no matter how hard she had tried to pull away from Rhena, it was like she was always getting pulled back towards her. It wasn’t fair.

“What’s on your mind?”

Calia looked at her companion, who was watching her intently. “Nothing.”

Rhena cocked her head to the side. It was a small wonder that it was still attached to her neck, with how often she did that. But she thankfully was understanding enough not to pry. “Well, we’re almost there. Best take a deep breath.”

“Why should I take…” Calia coughed as a sharp stench wafted into her nose. It smelled like burned metal, sweat and decay. It probably was all that. “Oh. That’s why.”

“Yeah. The Tar Pit is not a nice place. By comparison, the rest of the Undercity looks and smells downright pleasant.”

And yet there were people who worked down there day and night, Calia knew. The uncomfortable feeling in her gut grew as she followed Rhena.

The tunnel had become even narrower and more sparsely illuminated, and it was starting to get so low that she almost had to crouch in places. But then, after another few dozen paces, the ceiling slowly began to recede, until the tunnel opened up into a spacious cavern, seemingly almost as large as the main one. In the darkness Calia couldn’t see the opposite wall, if there even was one. Closer, there were a number of enormous water wheels, spinning endlessly to power some machinery further down. Their creaking was nearly drowned out by the sound of pickaxes on stone, which made the entire cavern ring.

Calia barely had time to take it all in before they were already heading through another tunnel, the sheer extent of the Tar Pit disappearing momentarily behind the rock. The tunnel ended in a small room, with a Rhalata watchman sitting by the wall and smoking a pipe. He made to get up when they entered, but after taking them in for a moment he seemed to reconsider. Calia had the distinct impression that it had something to do with her companion rather than her. Rhena, meanwhile, nodded at the guard casually and stepped onto a wooden platform at the back of the room. She signalled for Calia to follow. “We’ve got to ride this elevator down to the lower levels. Here’s to hoping it doesn’t crash.”

“That’s comforting.” Calia eyes the thin wooden contraption uneasily. A jolt went through it and they started descending down a long stone shaft. “Did you know that guard?”

“We got acquainted.” Rhena left it at that.

The shaft opened up into yet another cavern, this one smaller, but still ringing with the sound of pickaxes and hammers. Below, Calia saw the dozens of specks that were the workers, toiling to extract ore and carrying large baskets on their shoulders. And on a stone tower, finally illuminated by some torches, Calia spied a large poster with the picture of a worker and elaborate writing underneath:

_‘Through hard work to the righteous Path’_

“Quite something, isn’t it?” Rhena said.

It was something, alright. Calia suddenly, truly regretted that she hadn’t lost her keeper’s robe before coming here. She couldn’t take her eyes of that poster. “Did the Order put that up?”

“I assume so. If not, then it’s certainly inspired. Though, why no one has taken it down yet I have no idea. Must be a very grim sense of humour.”

Calia looked at her friend, having to cover her nose as the platform continued descending. The stench of metal and sulphur had become almost overwhelming. “Doesn’t this bother you at all?”

“What, the smell? You get used to it.”

“No.” Sometimes Calia still couldn’t tell whether what Rhena said was a joke, something she really meant, or just bravado. “That people have to live in these conditions. In the temple I was taught that we’d eventually reach the Eternal Paths if we just lived our lives as virtuously and path-abidingly as possible.” She stared out across the array of wheels and pits that was coming into view. “But how is that possible, when we allow something like this to exist right below our feet?”

“Are you asking me to condone it?” Rhena looked at her. Below the usual warmth and wit, there was something steely in her emerald eyes. “You know I didn’t grow up with your Order. And I certainly don’t agree with everything about your Path system. Yes, this here bothers me. But there’s not much I can do about it, is there?”

Calia hated it when her friend started talking this cynically. She had picked that up from the mercenary. “Maybe that is why it is this way.” she said heatedly. “Because everyone just pretends they can’t do anything about it.”

“Oh, a very wise observation.” Rhena crossed her arms. “You know, when I went down here for the first time, I couldn’t believe how many beggars and sick people there were. ‘This is Ark’, I thought, ‘this is the greatest city in the land; surely they could do this better’. I started off giving every beggar some coins, every time I passed through. Did that reduce the number of beggars? No.” She started pacing across the thin wooden frame. “You think I’m doing nothing? I’m already giving the apothecarii down here as much coin as I can spare, so that they can buy at least the most basic healing herbs. It’s still not enough. But last I checked it’s more than your Holy Order has ever done.”

That stung. Mostly because, as much a Calia didn’t want it to be, there was some truth to what her companion said. Rhena had never made a secret of the fact that she had her problems with Enderal, but usually she didn’t let it interfere with her work. And Calia had never seen her having an outburst like that. Something must have changed.

Rhena sighed and stopped pacing. She turned to look at her again. Suddenly she looked even more tired than before. “I’m sorry. That…wasn’t fair to you. I’m just – exhausted, that’s all.”

With a last pained creaking of wood, the platform settled on the cave floor. Rhena walked off towards a low stone building next to the water wheels, and after a moment Calia followed her. The way was filled with uncomfortable silence. Silence, and the distrustful looks and whispers of the miners as they looked up from their work, they’re eyes following the two keepers. 

Calia kept her eyes on the back of her companion. She wished she could think of something to say. Something was clearly wrong. But she had never been good at talking, and especially not at starting a conversation. She hadn’t had much practice before – well, before her. The other novices had either been too distrustful or too afraid to talk to her after the incident with the hunter at the market. Rhena was the first who didn’t have such qualms. She had gotten closer to her than anybody else from day one. Usually it was hard for Calia to stop her talking, frankly – especially since recently she found that she didn’t want her to stop. This silence felt wrong.

The door of the building was guarded by another Rhalata watchman. As he saw them approach, he stepped right into their path, one hand falling on the hilt of his sword. “Whoever you think you are; this area is off limits. You’ll turn right around if you know what’s good for you.”

Rhena made no signs of stopping. “Listen, friend, I’ve had a long week and I need to get through here. Just let us pass and there won’t be any trouble.”

“Oho, a sun child giving me orders!” The Rhalata drew his weapon. “These miners are under the Father’s protection and you Keepers have no business here. One more step, and I’ll…”

There was a blur of movement too fast to see, and suddenly Rhena was standing right in front of the man, his own blade at his throat. The Rhalata’s eyes went wide. They nearly twisted out of their sockets as he tried to glance down at the sharp steel digging into his skin. His shocked expression mirrored Calia’s. She hadn’t even had time to draw her weapon. How had her companion just moved like that?

“Let’s try this again.” Rhena hissed. “I know you are peddling glimmercap dust in these bedders. Probably without the Father’s knowing, correct? So unless you want me to go ahead and tell him, you’ll let us pass without any more trouble. Agreed?”

“…Agreed.” the Rhalata wheezed.

Rhena pressed the sword to his throat for another second. Then she let it drop at his feet and gestured for Calia to follow her. “Come on.”

They entered a sort of sleeping area: beds were lined up by the walls, a dim light shining from a hole in the ceiling. It stank almost worse than outside. A sort of metallic dust covered every surface. Before they had passed the first set of bunks, Calia grasped her friend’s wrist. “What was that?” she wanted to know.

“Time manipulation. A little trick I’ve picked up.” Rhena didn’t wrench free, somewhat to Calia’s surprise. She turned to look at her. Her eyes held nothing of the anger she showed outside; just that tiredness. “Or are you referring to the un-hero-like show of force?”

Calia’s irritation melted, replaced by concern. “Sa’ira, what happened? You don’t seem like yourself.”

The other woman scoffed. “You want the long version or the short version?”

Making a decision, Calia pulled her down on one of the bunks so that they sat side by side. This was dangerously intimate, and that voice inside her screamed at her to get up and walk away. She made an effort to ignore it in favour of focussing on her friend. “Whichever you want to give me. Just talk to me.”

“I guess that’s fair.” Rhena started twisting her gloved fingers, seemingly unconsciously. “Where do I start? First; Castle Dal’Galar.” Her dark eyes met Calia’s. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but none of what happened was your fault. It was mine. I’m sorry, and I should have told you this before.”

Calia felt a cold, sinking feeling grow in her stomach. So they were talking about this. “That’s not… You’re not…”

“Second; the other black stones.” Rhena went ahead. “If anything, those were almost worse. For one of them, I got Jespar killed.” Seeing Calia’s eyes go wide, she quickly amended, “Don’t worry, he’s alright – as alright as you can be after losing your sister. But that’s too complicated to go into right now. Still, for a moment… you have no idea how that felt.” She took a long, shaky breath. “For the second stone… I killed a child.”

For a moment, Calia was too shocked to say anything. Then she reached out and forcefully pried her friend’s hands apart, taking them into her own. “Sa’ira, you don’t know what you’re saying. I don’t know what happened, but I know you! You’d never harm an innocent, especially not a child!”

“Wouldn’t I?” Rhena gave a laugh that sounded close to a sob. “I might not have stabbed a knife through his heart, but I convinced him to let go of everything good in his life, and it killed him. Same difference. All for some stupid stones; some vague hope of defeating these ‘High Ones’.”

Calia didn’t reply. She was burning with questions, but she had a feeling that none of them would do anything to help Rhena. So she held her tongue.

“You know what scares me the most?” Rhena muttered after a long silence. “The possibility that this is all still just a part of their game. That me finding the stones is just playing right into their hands, and that all this was for nothing. I – I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself if that’s the case.”

“It’s not for nothing!” Calia promised her. Her friend was scaring her right now. She had never heard her sound so defeated. “You did the right thing, Sa’ira. You always do the right thing. You’re a good person.”

“Am I?” Rhena huffed. She put her face in her hands. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“You are. What you need right now is rest.” Calia said firmly. “If you don’t want to listen to me, that’s alright. Sometimes you just need… some time alone to think. To clear your head.” _Trust me, I know_.

“Maybe you’re right.” Rhena pulled away from her and stood up. “But not now. Come on, the pit where the miners were murdered is just a bit further.”

“Stop.” Calia stood up as well, coming face to face with her. She was slowly starting to get angry. “Why are you so adamant about going after this thing right now? You need to rest. I’m not going to let you die to some stupid monster just because you’re not thinking clearly!”

Rhena pushed past her, heading for the other exit of the sleeping quarters. “I can’t sleep. After the stones, I started having the dreams again. So resting isn’t going to do anything for me. And I have to stop this thing from killing any more people, because I’m responsible for this, too.”

“Is this about Arantheal’s ‘saviour of the world’ talk? He has put far too much on your shoulders with that…”

“It’s not that. I meant these deaths are literally, directly my fault.” Rhena opened the door and Calia followed her. They came out in one of the mining pits, but this one was devoid of people safe for them. Rhena pointed to a barricaded door on the opposite end of the pit. “When I first came down here I decided to explore a little and went through there. I didn’t think much of it, didn’t even have my weapon out – it was just another part of the mine, I thought. But I hadn’t taken two steps before this…thing jumped out at me from the darkness. It looked like a Lost One, but taller, and its face…” Rhena shivered. “I couldn’t do anything to it; it was like there was an invisible shield between me and it. My blows just bounced off its bones. So I retreated back into the pit. But...there was a miner there, working on the ore veins." She faltered. Calia drew in a breath, finally seeing were this was going. "He saw me, and this thing chasing me. I-I think he must have been drunk, or on glimmerdust, or something. Instead of running, he charged right at it. Kept hitting it with his pickaxe. Of course it didn't do any more damage than my sword had."

“And he got himself killed.”

“Yes. I tried freezing that creature, and burning it, but nothing worked. So eventually I just…ran.” Rhena scoffed. “I just left that monster here, right next to so many people. I must have hoped it would go back to its cavern after a while.”

“That’s why you blame yourself. You think you lured the Blind Miner out here, and that’s why these people died.” Calia nodded, understanding.

“I don’t think so; I know. Not that that’s anything new. I seem to be leaving dead people everywhere I go.” Rhena reached the door and got to work on the beams barricading it. “My first official mission as a keeper and I end up leaving Firespark dead in that blasted temple. Then Lishari chooses me to share her information about a traitor in our ranks, and what do I do? I take too long, because other things are more important, and when I finally turn up she’s dead as well. I’m always too slow, or I’m setting the wrong priorities.” She tore away another piece of the barricade. “And don’t tell me that they’re not on my conscience. Before them it was Sirius. And before him…” She broke off. A last beam of wood hung in the doorframe and she burned it sway with a sharp fire blast. “I can’t do anything about them anymore. But I can do something about this.” She glanced at Calia. “I’ll go in first, you cover me.”

Calia swallowed down her protest. With her thin leather robes, her Sa’ira was so much more breakable than her, if the Miner was really still on the other side of that door. But after everything she had just told her, Calia knew that she wouldn’t be able to convince Rhena to let her go first. So she just nodded. Rhena acknowledged it, readied her weapon and threw open the door.

The shift in atmosphere was instantaneous. The hallway ahead of them was covered in cobwebs and dust, and eerily quiet. As soon as they stepped through and Calia closed the door behind them, the ringing and creaking of the Tar Pit became muffled, leaving her heartbeat sounding far too loud in her ears. The tunnel’s walls were hung with moss, mushrooms and bones. Otherwise it was empty as far as she could see, but there was something menacing in the air. She felt her muscles tense, like they always did when she knew a battle was coming.

“Where are you?” Rhena muttered, casting about with a flaming hand. “Last time he ambushed me right here. Do you see anything?”

“No. But there’s only one exit. We’ll see him when he comes. Sa’ira?” she said. Rhena threw her a distracted glance. Calia took a deep breath. “Can I say something?”

That made the other woman turn to her fully. She gave a strained smile. “You’ve never asked for my permission before. Am I going to like this?”

“Maybe not. But I’m going to say it.” This was not a good idea. Coming down here with Rhena had not been a good idea in the first place, Calia thought. It was too close, too soon. And now she was about to tear down whatever little protective wall remained to her. This wouldn’t end well. But she had to do this, to make her see. “You can’t save everyone, Sa’ira. I’m not asking you to forget those you couldn’t, but…you saved a lot of people as well.” Calia exhaled, meeting her friend’s eyes. “You saved me.”

“What?” The emerald orbs shone with confusion. “When? It was always _you_ who saved _my_ skin…”

“The day we met.” she stated. It seemed so long ago now, but in reality it could only have been a couple of weeks. The thought almost made her laugh, despite everything. “Do you remember? When you woke up, and I told you about how I came to the temple when I was young?”

Rhena nodded. “Of course. But why are you bringing that up?”

Calia shook her head incredulously. “Just the fact that you’re asking that! Do you have any idea how any of the other novices would have reacted if they had been in your place? How I expected _you_ to react? I expected you to storm out, or throw it back in my face. I think…I think a part of me even wanted you to do that. But you didn’t. To this day I still don’t understand why you didn’t.”

Rhena’s expression softened as understanding finally dawned on her face. “I’ve told you why.” she said quietly.

“Yes. But I never believed you. I didn’t think anyone could ever accept me once they knew about this thing inside of me.” Calia turned her head away. Suddenly her eyes had started to sting. “But do you want to know the truly pathetic part? Even though I expected you to hate me, I was so afraid that you would. I don’t think I could have handled that. To know that even becoming a keeper would have changed nothing. That this thing would always define me.”

“Calia…”

“But then you knelt next to me at the ceremony.” she continued quickly. She had to get this out now, she knew, or she never would. “And you didn’t mind. You said you’d like us to be friends. And then you saw me in Old Dothulgrad. The real me. But still you wouldn’t leave. For days I tried to figure out why; what you wanted from me. It didn’t even occur to me that you might act this way because you were just a good person. So when we went into Dal’Galar’s castle I just didn’t know what to expect anymore. And then, when it was over, you told me about my… my ‘father’.” She gave a hollow little laugh. “You told me what I really am. And all I saw was you having pity for me. I don’t want pity! I wanted you to despise me. Damnit, _I_ despised myself!”

There was more. There was so much more. Calia opened her mouth, even though she had no idea how she could put everything into words, when she heard the metallic sound of Rhena’s sword sliding back into its sheath. Not a heartbeat later, Rhena was right there, her face just inches from hers. She had pulled down her cowl, leaving her shock of dark brown hair falling down over her shoulders. There was an anger in her eyes that Calia had never seen before, at least not directed at her. She had to fight the urge to look away. Suddenly she was afraid. “I don’t want you to…”

“Shut up.” Rhena pulled her into a hug.

Calia froze. The other woman was suddenly everywhere; arms pressingly firmly into her back; dark hair tickling her nose; breath ghosting against her neck _. Too close._ There was a second where everything inside Calia screamed to push her away. _Run. Hide. Ignore_. Then the second passed and she stopped thinking and hugged her back. Something warm spread in her chest as she felt Rhena tighten her embrace. She could feel her mind trying to panic, to bring up all the reasons why this wasn’t good, but she shut it out. For one moment, she would just allow herself to have this, as long as it lasted. Just one.

At last Rhena pulled away. It left the space where she’d been feeling oddly empty. Her face was still only inches away from Calia’s, her eyes shining silver-green in the magelight. Despite the dark bruises, she looked beautiful… Calia flushed as her mind abruptly caught up to what she was thinking. She quickly lowered her head, hoping the shadows would cover her blush.

“Can I say something now?” Rhena asked into her uncertainty.

She managed a nod.

A delicate finger dipped under her chin and turned it up until she was looking into her companion’s emerald eyes again. The anger in them was gone, Calia realized. She didn’t know what it was that was staring out at her now – but suddenly she wanted Rhena to look at her like that all the time. The other woman sighed. “Listen. You’re too good to feel this bad about yourself.” she said.

That caused a watery laugh to bubble up from Calia’s chest. “Says you!”

“No, don’t turn this around on me. We can talk about my issues later; for now the topic is your self-esteem. Look, I…” All of a sudden, Rhena abruptly trailed off. Her eyes left Calia’s and focused on something behind her. She heard her suck in a sharp breath. “Calia.”

“What?” The sudden tension in her friend’s voice made Calia’s hairs stand on end.

“Duck!” Rhena yelled, as her sword flew from its sheath. Without hesitation, Calia threw herself to the ground. She felt the brush of air as Rhena’s blade sang over her neck, followed by the sharp _clang_ of steel on steel. A guttural growl echoed from above her, more furious than any noise Calia had ever heard.

Before she could do anything, an invisible force pushed her away, back towards the door. She scrambled to her feet and drew her longsword from her back. Slightly disoriented, she tried to assess the situation. A few feet away, the magelight illuminated two fighting silhouettes: a huge shape wielding a crude hatchet was bearing down on Rhena, who was struggling to block the onslaught as best she could with her short sword. She was a good fighter, but her talents lay more in quick, evading strikes and long distance flame bursts, and this tunnel didn’t permit her to do either. She was in trouble. With a yell, Calia threw herself into the fray.

It took her a dozen strides to reach them. The creature – the Blind Miner; it had to be – was still growling furiously, hitting the walls left and right in his attempts to cleave her companion. The clamour would surely draw anything else that dwelled down here to their location. The Miner charged forwards with his axe and Rhena had to scramble back to evade him. Then Calia finally got in reach and drove her sword into his back.

Or tried to. The instant before the blade made contact with the decaying torso, it was suddenly deflected sideways and glanced harmlessly off the tunnel wall. Calia used her momentum to spin around for a second strike – and watched it bounce off just like the first.

_The totem_ , she remembered. She just got her sword up in time as the Blind Miner swung around, turning his attention towards her. Calia stared into a face like a nightmare: instead of eyes, a nose, or anything feature-like, there was just a gaping mouth filled with pointed yellow teeth. In her shock, her blade was almost knocked out of her hands when the creature wrenched its axe free. It swung it back for another strike that would have surely taken her head clean off if she hadn’t dodged it. Without reprieve, a third followed.

Now it was her who had to retreat backwards. The Miner attacked with a ferocity that made her arms go numb each times their blades met. A particularly strong blow made her stumble backwards and her back hit a wall. The Miner’s axe only missed her throat by inches. With a growl he swung it back – and then the growl turned into a pained screech as a sword suddenly sprouted from his ribcage. He turned around and struck at Rhena, who had to let go of her sword handle as she jumped back.

Seeing her opportunity, Calia swept the feet out from under the creature and jumped on top of him. Before he could swing his axe, she managed to catch it with her cross guard and pinned it down over his neck. The Miner hissed and pushed back with fury, seemingly the only emotion left in his husk of a formerly human body. It seemed to give him abnormal strength, too, because he almost succeeded in getting up. Calia put all her weight onto her sword. “Burn him!” she yelled at Rhena.

There was a roar like a dozen torches being ignited at once and then a gout of fire rushed past her face and engulfed the body of the Miner in flames. He let out a shriek and twisted to get her off of him, but Calia managed to hold her position. She bit back a scream as the flames singed her arms. The sword grew searing hot and burned into her hands – and finally she had to let go, scrambling away from the inferno. Hissing in pain, she drew her dagger from her belt.

But the Blind Miner was not getting up. The flames flowing from Rhena’s hands had melted the remaining flesh of his bones, leaving only a smouldering skeleton on the tunnel floor. Of the monstrous head, only a malformed clump remained. When the fire finally subsided, the creature was no longer moving.

Calia inhaled deeply, trying to get her rapidly beating heart under control. Without warning, an agonizing pain flared up in her palms and she bent over with a mute cry, dropping her dagger. Clenching her teeth, she looked at her hands. They looked like they didn’t belong to the rest of her body; the skin boiling and bleeding and showing the red flesh underneath.

“Oh shit!” Rhena was by her side in a heartbeat. She cursed again when she saw her palms. “Shit, shit, shit. Okay, you have to hold still; this will hurt. I’m sorry.” The flames engulfing her fingers vanished and the white glitter of ice took their place. Then she ran her fingers over Calia’s burned skin. Calia cried out at the intense cold. It burned worse than the fire had.

Rhena gripped her arm tightly as she swept her hand all the way up to her shoulder and back down. Black spots started dancing in front of Calia’s eyes. After the initial burn, her skin was mercifully left feeling completely numb. Or perhaps that was her pain receptors being overloaded. She fervently hoped that she wouldn’t pass out.

“Hey, stay with me.” Rhena said, pinching her shoulder. After repeating the cooling process on Calia’s other arm, she threw off her backpack and started rummaging around in it. “I’m so, so sorry.” she muttered. “I’m not good at healing. Let me just… There!” She produced a weathered scroll, unrolled it and read it hastily. A golden glow appeared around her hands. “Can you hold out your palms?”

Calia did so, though her arms would only obey her commands sluggishly. Rhena took both her hands in hers. A warm feeling started spreading from Calia’s fingertips; not searing like the flames before, but almost soothing. She sighed and closed her eyes, letting the feeling wash through her.

When she opened them again, her arms looked as if they had never been burned. The skin had drawn back together, even and smooth, the charred marks vanished. Calia turned her palms, inspecting them in fascination. She looked up to find Rhena hovering there. Her Sa’ira’s face was twisted with worry. “Are you alright?” she asked anxiously. “Does it still burn?”

“I’m fine.” Calia eased her concern. She got to her feet and shook out her arms experimentally. Everything seemed to work fine. She exhaled deeply, her shoulders relaxing for the first time since the Miner had ambushed them. Then she gave her friend a reassuring smile and held up her hands. “Looks almost better than before, don’t you think?”

Rhena breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, you’re alright. Gods, please don’t ever do that again. I thought you’d back off when you told me to burn him! You had me really scared for a moment.”

“But it worked, didn’t it?” Calia cast her eyes to the charred remains of the Miner. It was only slowly sinking in what they had just done. An absurdly giddy feeling bubbled up in her chest. “Shit. Shit, we actually beat him.”

“We did.” Rhena nudged her. With the worry abating, a grin spread over her face as she looked at Calia. It shone almost as bright as her magelight. “I for one never doubted.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Calia huffed. She touched the corpse with her boot, just to be completely sure. It didn’t move. Now she also spied where the creature had come from so suddenly: there was a small alcove tucked away in the tunnel wall, hidden by thick sheets of moss. He must have been slumbering in there. Or watching them and waiting for a good opportunity to strike. Only, that hadn’t worked out well for him, had it now?

“What you said before…” Rhena’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “About what happened in Dal’Galar’s castle. You said you despised yourself. Past tense. Does that mean you don’t anymore?”

“Sa’ira…” An incredulous, slightly mad laugh escaped Calia’s lips. The aftershock of the battle. “We just killed the Blind Miner, and – and _that_ is your first thought?!”

“Yes?” Rhena gave a seemingly disaffected shrug, but her eyes never left her. “Did you mean it?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps. Can you give me a second to process this?”

“Right. Of course.” Rhena rubbed her neck. “This is your first mythical, murderous monster you’ve killed, I take it?”

“Yes, it is. And don’t make it sound so…so…”

“So what?”

“So normal! This thing has been such a terror that there’s books written about him, and we just took him down. It’s not an everyday event.”

Rhena gave an embarrassed shrug. “What can I say? Once you’ve encountered eons-old men and sentient temples, you sort of just learn to roll with the punches. Believe me; a few weeks ago I couldn’t have dreamt any of this up, either. But now…” She spread her arms. “Well, now here we are. Yes, it’s insane. But in a good way, I think.”

Strangely, that statement made complete sense, Calia thought. Being here; in this eerie dungeon, with Rhena and the corpse of a mythical monster, was – good. Even though it still felt utterly bizarre that this was happening to her.

And what was the alternative? For a moment, Calia considered that thought. She tried to imagine what she might be doing now if she had never learned about the Cleansing; if the two of them had never met. Most likely she’d be in the Chromicum, deciphering dusty old tomes. Or sparring with training dummies in the scuola, preparing for a first mission that would perhaps never come. Or perhaps her secret would have been uncovered by someone who cared less, and she’d be living somewhere in the wilderness; an outcast. Or maybe Arantheal would have decided that her – abilities – were too useful for his cause to throw them away, and sent her out to fight the Nehrimese.

She glanced at Rhena. Yes, she much preferred this eventuality, she decided.

Meanwhile, her friend had discovered the alcove as well and had ducked in behind the moss. “Come take a look at this.” she called.

Calia stuck her head through next to hers. The stench inside nearly made her eyes water. The alcove was filled with bones – some human, some from other unknown creatures. There was also a pickaxe, a Rhalata mask, pieces of ore that glowed in the dim light, and more items that seemed to have all been randomly thrown together in here.

“By the prophet’s ass.” she heard Rhena curse. “This thing kept a trophy hoard. Makes you wonder how much conscious thought was left in that mutated head.”

Calia didn’t reply. She had seen something, half buried underneath a human hip bone, and reached to pluck it out. When she ducked back out of the alcove, she held a small wooden toy horse. It was of rather unrefined make, but evidently carved with much care. There was a red stripe painted across its back.

A laugh burst from Calia’s lips. She shook her head incredulously, examining the toy in the magelight. It seemed undamaged.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” Calia chuckled. She showed it to her friend. “I just have to return this to someone.”

“A toy?” Rhena looked at her curiously. “From the hoard of this creature? That seems like a story I want to hear.”

“It’s a short one.” Calia stuffed the horse into her pouch, taking care not to break it. “A girl in the Undercity lost it when she and her friend played by the pit. She asked me to get it back. For some reason this thing must have taken it with him.”

Rhena cocked her head. “Wait – was _that_ why you came down here originally?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It just happened to coincide with my mission. I might as well give it back to her now that we’ve found it.”

“Ah. I see.”

There was a look on her friend’s face that Calia couldn’t quite read. She looked way too amused. Calia raised her eyebrows. “What?”

“Nothing. It just sounds like you to run into a dungeon to get a little girl her toy back, if I’m honest. A rather strange quest, but very you.”

For some reason the smile that was playing around Rhena’s mouth was extremely aggravating. Before she even knew what she was doing, Calia had taken two steps towards her. “Alright then. What was the strangest quest _you_ have ever undertaken?" she burst out.

The stupid smile only widened. "Really?”

"Yes, really." Calia repeated indignantly. "You say _I’m_ being strange, when _you_ …urgh! Every time we set out together, you bring up these amazing things that have happened to you, and you do it so – offhandedly! I'd rather know the worst of it now so that nothing can surprise me anymore."

"Uh...fair enough, I guess." Rhena scratched her head. "Honestly, that's a tough question, though. Enderal is a strange place. Hm. Do I go with the crazy starling scientist and his robot or with the bandit trapped in the painting…?”

Calia growled, stepping even closer. “Don’t you dare tease me.”

“Alright, alright.” Rhena raised her hands placatingly. “Gods, you can be really intimidating, you know that? Hmm.” She thought for a long moment. “I mean – if I have to pick the one that blindsided me the most, it has to be the one with the alchemist, the mini-pig and the medium.” she finally said.

“…What?” Calia said. If she had heard this combination of words from any other person, she would have considered them insane. It sounded like the start of a bad tavern joke. But, aggravatingly, coming from her Sa’ira it was already starting to sound normal.

“Yeah. So, there was this alchemist in Duneville who wanted me to find his diploma by visiting the memories of one ‘Cuthbert’.” Rhena had tucked her hair out of her face and leaned forward, gesturing with her hands to embellish her story. “Not exactly your average task, but not all that outlandish considering what the Order had me doing at the time, or so I thought. However, it turned out that Cuthbert was not actually a person but the alchemist’s deceased mini-pig, and that my ability to see the memories of past civilizations was not good enough for him –he ordered me to hire a medium who lived in a small tower further down the coast. So I did just that. Then, after fixing the medium’s front door and brewing a very odd potion for her, I got in contact with the ghost of the pig. It took me a while to bribe him with various foods, but he finally agreed to lead me to the diploma...” Rhena stopped and shook her head, as if having only just noticed how odd what she was saying was. “Anyway, from there I went on a pig chase through the Powder Desert, during which I had to deal with more Bonerippers than I care to admit and Cuthbert took out a couple of Lost Ones by himself, until we finally found the diploma in one of their bellies.” She crossed her arms. “That’s more or less it. On a side note, I had no idea that pigs could be smug, but Cuthbert is it. Very, very smug.”

"I...see." Calia managed. She became aware that she was staring at Rhena, but didn’t care to stop anytime soon. Every time she thought this woman couldn't possibly become more fascinating, she went right ahead and proved her wrong. "How did that one end?" she wanted to know.

"Why, I got the alchemist and the medium on a romantic date, of course." Rhena gave her a smug smile. “Honestly, how’d you think it would end?”

“I’m not thinking at all right now. What even…?” Calia shook her head. Then she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Wait, you’re not kidding me, are you?!”

“No! I swear all that happened precisely as I said! Hang on, I can actually prove…” Rhena trailed off. Suddenly she looked wary. “Wait. Do you hear that?”

Calia pricked up her ears. Now she heard it, too: voices, drawing steadily closer. But they weren’t coming from the direction of the Tar Pit. They were coming from further into the dungeon.

“…heard those noises earlier.” she could hear one saying.

“Just another miner who stumbled in here.” replied a female voice. “Must have put up a fight for a change. We’ll be finding their remains soon.”

“If the Breaker left any.” the other muttered.

“Indeed. Now hush up, or do you want to wake Him?”

The two women exchanged a glance. “Hide.” Rhena whispered, motioning to the alcove. They ducked inside, having to twist a bit to make room for both of them. The moss should cover them well enough, Calia thought, but she still kept a hand on the hilt of her dagger. Whoever dwelled in this ruin, she had a feeling they were not going to be friendly.

The footsteps drew closer. Only two pairs, as best as Calia could tell. They had that distinct sound of people trying to be stealthy without having mastered it. Their feet crunched over the moss that covered the floors, drawing closer until they turned a corner into the hallway were the two women were hiding. Next to her, Rhena lowered her breathing so as to remain undetected and Calia followed suit, trying her best to ignore how close they were currently pressed together. She wasn’t afraid of what would happen should they be discovered – she trusted that whoever this was, the two of them could take them on if necessary. But there should not have been people in this section in the first place, and she wanted to find out who this was and why they were here. Rhena was evidently thinking along the same lines.

The footsteps stopped some distance away from them. “That’s far enough. Put it down here. Quietly; we don’t want to wake Him.” said the female voice.

“I haven’t even caught a glimpse. Have you ever seen Him?” replied the male.

“I have, and if you keep going like this, your curiosity will get you killed. Have you forgotten what Ha’nim always says? ‘Trust in His hammer, but not in His mercy.’ If He’s awake and He sees you, I won’t drag what’s left of you back.”

“Thanks. I knew you liked me. I was just having a…” The man stopped abruptly. There was a sharp inhale. “Look there! That body.”

“Of course there’s a body. Hey, what are you…? Get back here!” whispered the woman.

A human silhouette entered Calia’s field of view and knelt down in front of the charred remains of the Blind Miner. As best she could tell, he wore light armour with a sword sticking out of his belt. Her muscles tensed. From the outside they were well-obscured, but should the man chance to see them, their position was far from advantageous.

For now the man seemed to be preoccupied with his discovery. He got to his feet, turning to his companion, who had reluctantly followed him. “It’s all charred. I can’t remember the Breaker using fire. And look at the head. It looks deformed. Do you think this is Him?!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, that’s just His latest victim. Now _shut up_ and let’s get back to the others.”

“Then where is He?”

“Sometimes He sleeps in his alcove. But not much longer if you…”

“This one?” The man walked straight towards their hiding place, one hand falling to the hilt of his sword.

“Are you mad?!” the woman hissed.

“Stop shitting your pants; I’ll only take a quick look…”

The man pulled apart the moss and Calia punched him in the face. Her gloved fist connected perfectly with his temple, causing his eyes to roll up in his head. The woman behind him gaped as her companion fell back into the tunnel like a wet sack of grain and Calia jumped out of the alcove. “What the…?!” Apparently she was an arcanist, because fire started to form around her fingers. Then Calia felt a rush of cold air sweep past her and a heartbeat later the woman was encased in a block of solid ice.

Rhena climbed out of the alcove after Calia. She inspected the unconscious man on the ground and whistled. “Nice punch.”

“Thanks. Nice trick.” Calia returned, nodding at the ice block. She would never get tired of seeing that.

“Did you hear the same that I heard? Because it sure sounded as if these madmen worshipped the sodding Blind Miner.”

“I don’t think you heard wrong.” Calia glanced down at the unconscious bodies, trying to make any sense of this. She spied the item they had set down earlier: a bucket filled with what looked like slabs of raw meat. The implications made her feel a little queasy. “But why? Do you think… do you think they sacrificed these workers to him?”

“If not, then they were certainly very blasé about their deaths. And now that we’ve killed their idol…” Rhena mused. She looked down the tunnel. “I think we should have a look into the rest of this place, if you ask me. Can’t have a bunch of murderous cultists running around so close to the Undercity.”

Calia shook her head in bemusement. “Why can’t it ever just be a simple mission with you? Every time I set out with you, things escalate like this.”

“It’s hardly my fault! As I said, it’s the country that’s bonkers. I just happen to always be in the middle of it for some reason.”

_For some reason_. Calia suppressed a smile. She knew perfectly well why her friend frequently found herself in these situations: it was her unique mix of courage, child-like curiosity and her inability to let any injustice go. It landed her in trouble more often than not, but while Calia might feel a little exasperation at it every now and then, this part of Rhena’s personality was also one of the main reasons why she felt so drawn to her. And she knew that her friend’s actions were usually justified. So Calia might as well keep her safe while she charged head-first into this new problem.

She noticed Rhena’s almost petulant expression and had to smile. “You’re right.” she allowed. “We’re already here; let’s finish this. It can’t get stranger than a smug mini-pig, right?”

“Doubtful.” Her friend grinned back. “Lead the way, Sa’ira.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's part 2. It's gotten longer than I thought, but what can I do? I had fun writing it and I hope you have fun reading it, too.
> 
> (I didn't mean to rhyme that. Honestly. Won't change it, though XD)
> 
> Thanks to TransientPokemonMaster for proofreading this and for just being cool. Check out her story if you haven't already; it's well worth a read.

The hallways ahead of them were dark and silent, the only source of light being Rhena’s white, magical orb which once again floated behind her.

In the quiet, every step the two women took seemed to ring far too loud in Calia’s ears. Even with the knowledge that the creature that had haunted this place was dead, it had lost none of its eeriness. Calia knew that their fight likely wasn’t over; far from it. She knew there was no reason to relax yet.

So why could she not stop smiling?

She did not have a rational answer to that question. All she knew was that, as absurd as it sounded, she felt… good. Better than she had in a long time. Lighter, somehow. It was as if everything around her were amplified, thrown into sharper relief: the flickering of the light on the walls; their steps echoing in the hallway; the tension in her body as she anticipated the next battle. Her absurd, inexplicable happiness. Calia couldn’t remember ever feeling like this. Perhaps it had finally happened; perhaps the Red Madness had now taken a hold of her, too.

Only, she had a feeling that the reason for her elation might lay not so much in sickness, but more so in the woman walking beside her. Calia glanced at her furtively, trying not to be too obvious about it. Rhena didn’t seem to notice, her emerald eyes scanning the corridor in front of them as she walked – cautious, but nowhere close to hesitant. She had changed a lot since Calia had first met her, and yet that attitude hadn’t changed. She still carried herself with a confidence that belied her rather small stature. She also still possessed that intense curiosity that had gotten them here in the first place. The same curiosity that had made Calia so wary of her when they had met.

With hindsight, that wariness had been unfounded, since there was no malicious intent behind Rhena’s curiosity, but Calia had no way of knowing that at the time. As a rule, anyone who became too interested in her, who would question her, was dangerous, and Rhena asked a lot of questions. Yet there was something about the way she asked that Calia had found herself forgetting to be wary in her presence, and she had had to yank herself back often, reminding herself that she had to be reserved and in control.

Where had that wariness gone now? Calia searched for it inside herself, but couldn’t find it. There was just this strange sense of calm. In a way, she thought, it might be a result of the fact that she didn’t have a lot left to lose: Rhena had already seen her at her most terrible and there was hardly anything Calia could to do make her think worse of her – but yet it was more than that. Calia could barely describe it. Rhena had told her more than once that she enjoyed her company, that she trusted her – and somewhere during their shared adventures, Calia had come to believe it. Her calling Rhena _Sa’ira_ had become more than just a turn of phrase; it became a commitment, a way of telling her friend what their closeness meant to her without actually having to say it. And now, just minutes ago…Rhena had said it back to her. She’d called her _Sa’ira_.

Maybe it had been said jokingly. Maybe Rhena didn’t understand how much this would mean to Calia. But Calia doubted that. Her friend was too perceptive for that, and she had come to know Calia better than any other person since her adoptive father. No, Rhena must have known what she was saying with that one, seemingly innocent word. The fact that she had said it anyway warmed Calia, as if a gentle fire had just been lit inside of her, and the word made her lips turn up into a giddy smile every time she repeated it in her mind.

Another furtive glance, this time noticed and acknowledged by a curious look from Rhena. Calia smiled. Whatever the outcome, they were now in this together. They had become companions. For the first time, Calia allowed herself to think about the possibility that they could both get through this, that there might be something waiting for them at the end of this fraught journey.

Something good.

But first, Calia reminded herself, they had to deal with the situation at hand. From what they’d overheard from the two unconscious people back there, some sort of cult seemed to have sprung up around the Blind Miner, whom they had just killed. If the two of them found the rest of those people down here… well, Calia was prepared for another fight. Whatever reason they had for worshipping a creature like that, they were unlikely to see the two Keepers’ deed as a good thing. People never reacted well to their beliefs being thrown into question – Calia had seen that often enough.

With some sadness, she remembered Dunwar. Her fellow novice had still not woken from his coma, and at this point it was unlikely that he ever would. Maybe that was a mercy, given everything they had since learned about the Lightborn and the High Ones, Calia thought. Dunwar would never have subscribed to Arantheal’s plan to disrupt this ‘godly’ cycle. She wondered if he might have betrayed them and joined the Nehrimese, given the opportunity.

Calia’s hand absentmindedly came up to twist a hair strand around her fingers, suddenly uneasy. She wondered whether there was something that could make herself turn traitor, too. Was she blindly loyal to a cause as well, and like Dunwar or the Nehrimese she just couldn’t see it? Or worse; was there something that could make her use _it_ inside of her, not because she couldn’t control it, but willingly? She’d like to think there wasn’t, but could she really be sure? Everyone could do evil things if they only thought they were doing it for the right reasons.

Calia shook her head. She was thinking too much, again. None of these thoughts were comforting and they were only distracting her. She needed to stay focused on the here and now – for her own sake, but even more for her Sa’ira’s.

She wondered if Rhena would understand her doubts. Calia thought that she might. The other woman had plenty of insecurities of her own, though she rarely ever let them show as openly as she had earlier, before their fight with the Blind Miner. But they were there, and had been for a long time. Rhena preferred to mask them with jokes and humour, but Calia had seen the look on her face after the trial, when she had woken up in the Sun Temple’s curarium. There had been an expression on the Prophetess’ face that Calia had never seen before, or since: one equal parts shock, confusion, guilt and fear. It had only lasted for a few seconds, until Rhena noticed that she wasn’t alone in the room and schooled her face back into something resembling a neutral expression. Then, inexplicably, it had relaxed into relief when she recognised Calia.

The Keeper smiled at the memory. She had never trusted people easily, but that softening of Rhena’s expression had been too quick to not be genuine, and it had somehow made Calia more comfortable, too. It had made her talk to this half-stranger more freely than she previously had to any of her fellow novices. She thought that maybe it would have eventually made her choose to tell Rhena about the thing inside of her, too, if the choice hadn’t been taken away from her. At this point, the trust between them had grown so strong that, if Calia could go back, she would do exactly that. But as it was, her secret had been revealed without her consent – and her friend had remained her friend regardless. Telling Rhena how much that meant to her had been difficult enough, and Calia knew that her Sa’ira recognised that for the sign of trust that it was. And she loved her for it.

Maybe eventually Rhena would open up to her, too, and would tell her what that look had been about; what in her dream had made her so afraid.

They had covered a good distance by now, though it was difficult to tell; with the tunnel twisting and bending every few metres. After the Miner, Calia was wary of every corner and alcove. Her companion, by contrast, didn’t seem particularly tense. As she walked, Rhena had started to raise her hand in small intervals, a red glow briefly appearing around her fingers before disappearing again. It didn’t seem to have any obvious effect. By the fourth time, Calia’s curiosity had grown too strong. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“This?” Rhena turned around. She raised her hand and the red glow appeared and vanished again. “It’s…”

“A new trick you’ve picked up?” Calia anticipated, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

“Indeed.” Her friend’s lips pulled up into a guilty grin. “How’d you guess?”

Calia shook her head. Rhena’s ability to characterize any new arcane spell she mastered as just ‘a new trick’ was almost (definitely) endearing. In her presence at least, Calia now frequently found it hard to remember that, despite how her friend seemed to see it, no; learning magic this easily was not an everyday thing. “I mean,” she whispered, “what does it do?”

“It shows me any life signs in the vicinity if I concentrate for a bit, even through walls and ceilings. Very handy if you’re breaking and entering.” Upon noticing Calia’s look, she added, “Not that I’ve ever done that, of course. And if I did it was for a good cause.”

“I don’t think I even want to know the details,” Calia sighed.

“You can talk normally, by the way. I can’t feel anybody for a while.”

“Does your new trick work on Lost Ones?”

Rhena’s face fell a little. “Sadly, no,” she allowed. “If it did, I would have spared myself more than one heart attack.”

“I’ll just keep a hand on the hilt of my sword, then.” Calia stated. She refrained from pointing out that Rhena hadn’t detected the Blind Miner earlier, either. “Besides, it will drain you if you keep that spell up.”

Rhena protested, “It’s hardly the most tiring thing I’ve done recently.” She nudged Calia’s side. “But your concern for me is touching.”

Calia turned away to hide her smile, not even offering a rebuttal. No, she decided; it definitely _wasn’t_ the Red Madness.

Two bends later, Rhena stopped abruptly, raising her hand. The red light coalesced around her fingers and this time remained there for a few seconds. Calia saw her companion closing her eyes in concentration, and she instinctively stepped in front of her to protect her from any unwelcome surprises. “What do you see?” she whispered over her shoulder.

“People. But some of them feel…strange.” Rhena stepped up next to her, her eyes now narrowed to focussed slits. “They’re three bends ahead. At least ten of them, maybe more.”

“That’s a lot. Are they armed? Arcanists?”

Rhena gave her a look. “The spell is not _that_ precise!”

“How should I know?” Calia returned, “I’m not an arcanist!” Given everything she had already seen this woman do, hoping for a little bit more information didn’t seem that far-fetched to her. Someday, she resolved, she would have Rhena make her a list of all the things she could or couldn’t do; just to be able to know what they were working with.

“I’ll work on it,” her Sa’ira muttered, seeming almost hurt by Calia’s disappointment. “For now I can only tell you that there’s 10+ people, and they’re fairly spread out. Since this place is not exactly the Ark market square, I’m going to take a wild guess and say this is the group that our two friends back there belonged to. Let’s have a closer look, shall we?”

Calia nodded, inquiring, “Are the people spread out over these tunnels, or is there a larger cavern coming up?”

“I don’t know; I can hardly feel solid walls with a detect-life spell, can I?!”

“Alright, alright.” Calia appeased her cross-looking friend, trying to suppress a grin. “Let’s scout it out the old-fashioned way, then.”

Rhena resumed walking without further comment, muttering something under her breath about ridiculous expectations. Then she fell quiet and crouched down, adopting that way of walking of hers that made her near completely silent. Following her, Calia did the same. As they passed around the first bend, she could hear voices coming from up ahead. There were multiple, but Calia couldn’t make out any concrete words. They seemed to be talking over each other; it sounded like an argument.

The voices grew louder until the two women reached the final corner. Rhena stuck her head out for a peek and Calia did the same a little higher up, rising carefully from her crouched position. Muscles tensing, ready to draw back in a moment’s notice, she surveyed the room.

It _was_ a larger cavern, and it was indeed full of people. At one glance, Calia saw six grouped together in the centre, but she trusted her companion’s spell that there were more nearby. After a moment, she spied a seventh and eighth sitting on a flight of stairs that led to some higher level, their sleek black robes making them blend near perfectly into the background. Arcanists, probably.

The others in the centre of the room were more plainly dressed: four were marked by their tattered clothing as dwellers of the Undercity, while the fifth, a broad-shouldered man with a scar across his face, wore the dirtied uniform of an Ark city guard. But the one that drew Calia’s attention was the pale-skinned, white-haired man standing closest to her, whom the rest had all turned to. He was dressed in a simple grey tunic and looked downright small next to the guard, but his posture was that of a man who was used to commanding respect. A greatsword almost identical to Calia’s was strapped across his back. This had to be the leader.

The argument seemed to be happening between him and the other five. As Calia watched, the guardsman frowned and pointed at the man. “I don’t care what your faith is telling you; I’m not going to eat rats or spider meat for one more day! Even that crook of a cook can’t make that shit appetizing.”

“Yes,” one of the women in rags chimed in. She was twisting her hands nervously, her eyes barely meeting those of the two men. “Why can’t we sneak out and raid the Pit’s stocks again?”

The leader threw a glare at the woman, who immediately shrunk back into herself. “Are you all really this dense? Every stupid excursion like that risks us being discovered! I’ll not risk what we’ve done here, not when we’re so close.”

The second woman of the group pressed, “Close to what? And what is it that we’ve done here, in your mind?” She didn’t back down when the leader turned to her, her expression steely. “Each day you say we’re close, but every layer of earth we clear only leads to another damned collapsed tunnel. I can’t remember the last time anybody here smiled. I can’t remember the last time I breathed air that didn’t taste of mould.”

“I… can’t remember anything before yesterday,” said the timid woman. Her face took on a look of deep puzzlement. “What are we doing here…?”

The leader cut her off. “Where would you rather be; the Undercity? You’ve never tasted clean air before in your life. You’ve never even seen the sun. You think _you_ are making sacrifices?! Before this, before me and my visions, you were all just filth in the gutter. I took you under my protection to spare you from a cruel fate, and this is how you thank me?”

The guardsman growled. “Careful who you call filth, old man. I agree, these degenerates have no idea what they’re talking about, but without me one of them might still figure out how to cut your throat in your sleep.” He threw a disdainful look at the rest of the group. “And if I don’t get anything half-decent to eat, I won’t feel inclined to stop them.”

The leader turned back to him, producing a fake smile. “You will get your share, next time Eileen teleports us some provisions down here.” He nodded towards one of the black-clothed arcanists, who gave just as fake a smile in return. “But until then I trust your discipline, soldier. You know that we have to follow the Breaker; you know that the only way now is forward, correct?”

The other grunted. “I do,” he allowed grudgingly.

“But,” the timid woman muttered, “I don’t want to go on. I want to go back home…”

“None of us is ever going to go back home, you idiot! That’s the price we have to pay.”

“You…!” the other woman seethed, taking a step towards them. “I have a son, you lying, two-faced bastard! You told me I could take him once we…”

“Oh, are we doing this again? Fine,” the leader sighed.

Slowly, almost lazily, he raised his hand. At first, nothing happened. Then the woman’s mouth suddenly fell shut and, from one second to the next, she stepped away from the object of her ire. Her face became strangely empty and she stood up straight. The other Undercity dwellers, even the two who had stayed silent during the exchange, mirrored her, standing to attention in front of the leader.

“That’s better,” he said. “Now, I think you have digging to get back to. You know how important that task is, don’t you? The Breaker relies on you.”

“Yes,” the four responded in an uneven choir, their faces relaxing. One by one, they started heading towards one of the tunnels leading away from the cavern.

Behind their corner, Calia and Rhena exchanged a sharp glance. _Psionics. Mind manipulation_. It had to be.

Perhaps the most despised – and feared – of all the magic schools, it had been outlawed by the Order a long time ago, and what they had just witnessed served to prove the Order right in that instance. Calia saw her own disgust and anger reflected in her Sa’ira’s expression. She quickly placed a hand on Rhena’s shoulder to stop her from running in and decapitating that man then and there; no matter how much she would have liked to join her.

Meanwhile, the guardsman was looking after the psionicked group with at least a hint of unease as well. “That still gives me the creeps. You better never do that to me, old man.”

“Don’t worry. I know you are committed enough without me manipulating you with such crude tricks.”

The guard’s scar twitched. “Would I even know if you did?”

The leader bared his teeth in a grim smile. “No.”

“Great.”

Rhena pulled back from the corner, gesturing to retreat. Calia did so, her mind racing. These were not traditional hostiles in the cavern up ahead. Like she had expected, this was not going to be simple.

Once they had gone far enough to be out of earshot, Rhena stood back up. “Not just a cult, but a mind-controlled cult,” she summed up, exchanging a look with Calia. “That’s why these people felt so strange.”

“I’ve never actually seen that kind of magic in action. The way her face just went slack…” Calia shivered.

“Yeah,” Rhena agreed. Calia saw that she was at least as appalled by it. “Seems like the asshole with the greatsword is the culprit of all this. What was the name those fools at the entrance mentioned? Ha’nim? He sounds like he’s from topside, too.”

“That’s at least one piece of good news,” Calia stated. Upon Rhena’s questioning look, she explained, “That means he falls under the Order’s jurisdiction, and the Rhalâta can’t complain when we drag him off to jail and put him to trial. One less problem we have to worry about.”

“Right. Didn’t think about that.” Rhena conceded. From the reluctant tone in her voice, Calia could tell that she didn’t mean the part about the Rhalâta. Taking that man captive was clearly not what had been her mind.

“It’s the right thing to do,” Calia stated.

“I know, I know.” Her friend threw her a grudging look. “You’re a much better Keeper than I am.”

“Obviously; I’ve been doing this for longer.” Calia grinned. She truly appreciated the moments of levity that came with having Rhena with her, especially in serious situations like this. “So, we’re agreed that, if the situation allows it, we take this Ha’nim out of here to face justice?”

“Hmph,” Rhena agreed unenthusiastically. Her brow seemed to be stuck in a permanently furrowed state now. “He called the Blind Miner ‘the Breaker’, just like his errand boys earlier. What is it that he wanted that monster to break, I wonder?”

Calia prompted, “More importantly, why does he want it?” Growing up in Ark, she had witnessed enough power-hungry men to recognize one when she saw him. She knew that having power over others was often the only reason they needed for the things they did. But why down here in such an uncomfortable place? There had to be more to it.

“We can ask him that once we have him locked in the deepest, mouldiest cell the Order can find,” Rhena dismissed. “The people being mind-controlled can hardly be held accountable for whatever they may have done to help him, so…” Rhena trailed off, her brow furrowing in thought.

Calia thought she could guess what was bothering her. “That’s a motley group back there,” she pointed out. “I can believe some of them being controlled by that man, but…”

“…not all of them, at least not for a longer period of time,” Rhena completed her thought. “Did you notice the quiet ones in the black robes? They don’t seem the type to fall for some psionic spell.”

“What about the guardsman?”

“Oh, I bet he’s manipulated, too.” Rhena grimaced. “That’s the thing about Psionics: you don’t necessarily have to convince your victim of what _you_ think; you can just reinforce what _they_ think. That guy is probably completely convinced that he’s there of his own volition, since no one else could force him to be there. He seems like the type to think that.”

Calia had to agree; that wasn’t good news. They already faced at least four committed opponents who were likely skilled with arms or magic; not even considering the other life signs that her Sa’ira had detected nearby. Their best advantage right now was the element of surprise. She looked askance at her friend. “What are you thinking?”

“That I know far too little about how Psionics work,” Rhena stated. She looked askance at Calia. “Does that guy’s mind control vanish when we take him out of his victims’ reach, or do we risk them staying like that, without a way to reverse it?”

“I…don’t know.” If Rhena knew little about Psionics, Calia knew nothing. “Is this you arguing that we should kill him anyway?”

“No. It’s the same problem if he dies: does the damage that he’s done remain?” Rhena started pacing. “I bet Lexil would know a few spells for this kind of thing. If we can take out the leader and his cronies, he could probably free these people, couldn’t he?”

“They might not see it as a rescue. If we approach them, they’ll probably fight us,” Calia warned her.

“I know,” Rhena sighed heavily. “But just once, I would really like to solve this without innocents dying.”

Her voice had nothing of its usual joking undertones, and Calia fought the sudden urge to put an arm around her shoulders to comfort her. The perfect sincerity in her friend’s statement was laced with a hurt that Calia had only now come to truly understand. Rhena didn’t want any more people on her conscience, much like Calia. In that moment, the Keeper decided to make that her mission from now on. Anything to stop her friend’s heart from getting broken. She was too good for that; too good a person; too good a friend and, to Calia, so much more.

She settled for quickly clasping her Sa’ira’s shoulder, then, letting go. “I’m with you,” she promised, hoping that it could convey at least a fraction of what she meant. “What’s your plan?”

Rhena gave her a sideways look. Some of her usual cheek reappeared in the crooked smile she sent Calia’s way. “I’m still working on that. Maybe we can take out the assholes and then I can reason with the rest?”

Calia asked sceptically, “You really think so?”

“Well, I’ve argued with old Arantheal and the master of the Sickle; how hard can a group of mad cultists be to convince by comparison?” Rhena glanced at Calia and sighed. “But I see your misgivings about that plan. We ought to scout this place out first, just to make sure they haven’t got any surprises waiting.”

Calia nodded. Every now and then it was nice to hear that her friend possessed some appreciation for the dangers she put herself in – it wasn’t always that apparent. “Yes, we should. Come on then, I’ll follow your lead.”

Rhena stopped her with a hand on her chest. “When I said scout, I meant stealth. And when I said we, I meant me. No offense, but that," she tapped Calia’s plate armour, "is too noisy."

"At least it protects me," Calia said indignantly, feeling an absurd urge to defend her attire. It wasn’t like she was a rattling tin can; she had done alright so far! She nodded at her friend’s robes. "Unlike that flimsy cloth you’re wearing. What if you're caught?"

In response, Rhena gave her _that_ _grin_. That radiant expression that didn’t appear often but never failed to make Calia dizzy when it did. "Then I'm certain you will have my back, Iron Keeper. Now hush."

Crouching down, she dipped around the corner and vanished out of sight. By the time Calia had recovered her senses and went after her, the tunnel ahead of her was already empty. She cursed silently and followed her elusive, stubborn companion. Her Sa'ira's confidence was one of the things Calia admired most about her. But occasionally she truly wished that Rhena had a little bit less of it.

Someday this would get her killed.

Calia reached their corner without catching a glimpse of her. Rhena must have already snuck past the cavern and was probably looking for a different entrance. Loath as she was to admit it, Calia didn’t think she could do so undetected too. Especially since she could still sense the presence of several people right around the corner. She resolved to stay in her spot and wait until Rhena came back from her scouting. Or, Calia thought sarcastically, until something inevitably went wrong and she would need her help.

Peeking around the corner, she saw that a new group of ragged people had taken the place of those who had been sent away. They were clutching pickaxes and hatchets, leaning against the back wall for support and evidently exhausted. Calia spied the guardsman and the psionicist – Ha’nim, most likely – standing only a few feet away from where they’d last seen them. Ha’nim was studying a scroll in his hands, eyes flitting across the parchment and mumbling to himself. To Calia, he looked agitated. From his mumbles, she recognized a couple of words: “…not far enough. Not far enough.”

A male voice asked what Calia was thinking: “When is it far enough?” It belonged to one of the black-robed arcanists, who were joining their leader over his scroll. “It doesn’t say anything specific. Are you sure?”

“The Breaker is,” Ha’nim muttered. “We have to keep going. We have to keep going.”

“You sound half-mad,” scoffed the guardsman.

Ha’nim said harshly, “You know I’m right!”

“If you had come to me and told me all this a winter ago, I would have laughed at you.” The arcanist grimaced. “I’ve dealt with my fair share of reanimated corpses, and they don’t usually have an agenda. The world has gone fucking mad.”

“The Breaker is different; he’s leading us to salvation.” The statement left Ha’nim’s lips almost like a prayer. “We have to trust Him. You saw how wild that last miner from the Pit was, with his glowing red eyes. The idiot chafed his wrists raw on the shackles and didn’t even notice. That Red Madness is spreading up there, and fast. We have to be further down still before the Cleansing happens.”

Calia perked up and looked sharply at the leader. She didn’t recognize his face. His plain grey garb didn’t give away what he might have been before he came down here, either. Had he been a Keeper? How else would he know about the Cleansing? By Arantheal’s orders, no knowledge of it had spread beyond the Sun Temple.

It would explain the air of authority that surrounded the man, even in his unassuming attire and mad behaviour. And the quality steel of the greatsword on his back. And his disdain for the people of the Undercity. The more Calia looked at him, the more she could picture him in the same silver plate and red robe that she was wearing, striding through the Sun Temple. As a keeper, he must have been privy to the revelations about the High Ones and the Cleansing. Only, instead of facing and fighting it like all of Calia’s other brothers and sisters in arms had chosen to, he had defected and apparently gathered a cult around himself in some mad hope that the depths of the Undercity would provide shelter from what was coming. That was the reason behind this frenzied digging he had these people do.

Calia felt a shiver run down her spine. If even a keeper could react like this, she was suddenly very glad about Arantheal’s decision to keep their knowledge secret.

“I agree with you. But,” the second arcanist asked, “how do we know when we’ve gotten deep enough?”

“When the Breaker stops digging.”

The broad-shouldered guardsman huffed. “You say that, old man, but where is he? He hasn’t been digging for days now. I just hope you’re right and that he’s really leading us somewhere.”

“He is; keep your faith,” the former Keeper replied. “I’ve sent Lila and Seth with an offering to the entrance to pray to Him to continue. We will reach the depths that He is searching for.”

“Shouldn’t the two of them have been back by now? They are sure taking their sweet fuckin time…”

“Hello, people!” Rhena’s voice suddenly filled the cavern as she stepped out from behind a corner.

The gathered group spun around to her as if they’d been stung. There were a couple of surprised shouts. The guardsman, probably out of instinct, immediately drew his weapon. When the tired miners spied Rhena and saw that she wasn’t one of them, they followed suit; drawing a motley array of hatchets, rusty knives and pickaxes. The two arcanists in the black robes started to cast spells, and Calia recognized the green glow of Entropy. She tensed behind her corner, her hand finding the hilt of her sword.

Rhena, meanwhile, was walking straight to the centre of the room, calm as you please. She raised her hands in surrender. “There’s no need for aggression. I just want to talk.”

Calia cursed her silently. Why did her Sa’ira always have to be so – herself? ‘Reckless’ did not even begin to describe it. If things went sideways, she would be run through with half a dozen weapons. Calia wished she had at least communicated this plan with her first.

The leader, Ha’nim, had not drawn his weapon, but he was watching Rhena warily. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Rhena.” She sounded completely nonchalant about this situation, but Calia could hear the slight strain in her voice and see the subtle tension in her shoulders. She might not look like it to the other people in the room, but she was ready to use her magic if any one of them made a move. Her gaze was fixed on Ha’nim, though. “I heard you talking about the Cleansing and thought I’d join in the conversation.”

Her opposite straightened. “No one knows of this but the Order,” he stated. In that moment, about half a dozen more people came running into the room, alarmed by the commotion. Calia spied the two women from earlier, a man with a cowl like a fence of the Undercity, and another wearing a white chef’s hat of all things. To her alarm, two of them were carrying bows, arrows already nocked. The rest hefted their makeshift weapons and seemed ready to attack Rhena, until their leader stopped them with a hand signal. He looked Rhena up and down. “Yes, you are one of them. Has the Order started letting you coal people in now?” He demanded, “What do you know about the Cleansing?”

“The same as you, I would guess: That it will end our civilization, if it occurs as the High Ones planned it.” Rhena raised her voice: “And that it can be stopped!”

The man laughed. “Arantheal’s words. He thinks he can stop a force of nature. You really believe that old, self-important fool?”

“On this matter, I do.” Rhena turned away from him and towards the others, who were watching her warily. “I don’t know what this man has told you, but your world is not suddenly going to end. There’s still people left who are fighting to keep it alive and well. There is a plan to stop this Cleansing, and it will work. So what you are being told to do here – it’s for no one’s benefit but his.” She pointed at Ha’nim.

“Is that so?” Ha’nim scoffed. He looked askance at the two entropists, who were wearing grim smiles, and back to Rhena. “Your Order has no plan, just like their Lightborn didn’t. I spent my life worshipping them, and for what? Just to find out that they were nothing; that they could die just like all of us will die soon. We have to take fate into our own hands!”

“That’s something we can agree on, actually. You know, I’ve met a lot of people who are disillusioned right now. But you are the first who’s turned that into such a cruel, nonsensical endeavour as this. Others can accept the flaws in their faith and become stronger for it. I’ve seen someone turn into a hero, despite this and everything else working against her. If you truly mean to take fate into your own hands, you should take her as an example and start helping people…”

“I am.” Ha’nim cut her off. “But like all the rest, you are too blind to see it.”

“More blind than the mindless monster you choose to put your faith in?” Rhena demanded, “What makes you think a Lost One of all creatures has the answers to anything, let alone this? You can worship it all you want; it would still kill you if given the chance.” She addressed this more towards the Undercity dwellers who were surrounding her. In response there were a few scattered murmurs. Some of them sounded like agreement.

“Silence!” Ha’nim cried, visibly agitated. “Don’t sully His name, you ignorant fool! Unlike you, I have studied His legend, and I understood!”

“Is that so?”

“Yes! After the Miner was trapped down here, He found a way back to the surface – yet He did not leave. He did not leave because He realized that everything at the surface would be wiped out! Instead He burrowed deeper, to lead us few who are worthy to safety.”

“Wow, that is some amazing foresight for a dead man. And so benevolent, too! I’m sure he’ll make you a nice home down here, just as he did for his fellow miners who were stuck with him. Oh wait; he butchered those, didn’t he?”

Calia winced. Her friend’s biting sarcasm might be completely warranted, but in this situation it would only serve to make these people feel like they were being belittled. If she wanted to convince them, that would not help her cause in any way.

“They were not worthy.” the female arcanist spoke up. “They doubted and they turned on each other. But this betrayal was what gave the Breaker clarity as to his purpose. We will not make their mistake.”

Rhena was having visible trouble controlling her frustration. “Do you even hear yourself?”

Ha’nim frowned. “I see. You are unwilling to believe and as such you are not worthy to follow Him – but I shall spare you. Once you have been saved, you will thank me on your knees.” He punctuated his statement with a smile and then slowly raised his hand.

Rhena winced and staggered. For a moment her face twitched, as if unsure what expression it wanted to form. Then she shook her head firmly, and when she looked back up, her emerald eyes were clear. Calia briefly saw the flash of murder inside them as they focused on the psionicist, before her friend’s trademark smile reappeared. It carried a new, frightening edge. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she said quietly.

“Ah.” Ha’nim commented, dismay audible in his voice. He lowered his hand. “We’ve got a seasoned arcanist here, do we?”

“Just an enthusiastic amateur.” Rhena firmly turned his back on him and focussed on the woman who had stood up to him earlier. “This is all this guy has; fear and manipulation. You’re putting your faith in a corpse. There was no plan behind what that thing was doing, except to kill and devour. But either way, it won’t do anything anymore, now. Because we killed it.”

The shock those words caused went like a ripple through the people around her. Even the two arcanists looked uncertain for a moment. One of the ragged men cried, “No!” and clutched his pickaxe.

Ha’nim only laughed. “She’s lying. No one can kill the Breaker.”

Rhena scoffed. “Like no one could kill the Lightborn, you mean? Listen; none of you have to follow this madman’s fantasy anymore! You can walk out of this place this very minute and go back to your families. Whatever he may have forced you to do, I’ll make sure that he is the only one who will pay for it.”

The echo of her words dwindled in the cavern, and for a moment there was silence.

Rhena didn’t see it, but Calia did: The tensing of muscles in the cultists around her, the shifting of the mood towards aggression. She had faced enough angry crowds to recognize the signs. They didn’t believe Rhena, or they were too far under their leader’s spell to care; either way, it was clear what they were about to do.

Calia’s sword sang as it flew from its sheath and she ran around the corner, charging at the nearest cultist with the bows. They heard her coming at the last second and the first started to turn just as her cross guard hit him in the temple. The second archer fell before the rest had realized that there was another target and swung around to her. Calia raised her sword in the direction of the leader and assumed a defensive stance. Her gaze flicked to Rhena and their eyes met for the briefest of moments.

There was no anger or fear in her Sa’ira’s expression, just silent resignation. Her hope of not having to hurt anybody today wasn’t going to come true. Then the resignation vanished as she turned into her battle-self: Calia saw her face turn steely as Rhena gave her a brief nod. Then she turned to face the cultists, sword in the one hand and flames in the other.

The brief second of shock and pause that Calia’s entrance had caused washed away and the leader cried, “Kill them!” Voice cracking like a madman’s, his followers took up the cry as they surged forward, and the mayhem began.

It was nothing like any battle Calia had ever been a part of. There were no ranks of soldiers or soulless skeletons charging at her, but ragged people in torn clothing with desperate rage in their eyes. They weren’t coordinated or following a plan; every single one of them simply attacked her without regard for the others or their own safety, only intent on landing a killing blow. Calia blocked their wild swings and charged at the closest woman, knocking her back into her friends and causing them to crash to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Calia’s sword swung around to slice clean through the chest of another who was coming at her from the side. Several more who had been coming for her seemed to decide otherwise and suddenly changed direction, heading for Rhena instead. The Prophetess was dancing around the fray like a dervish, her blade a blur almost too fast to see. She met the new attack with a wave of fire, forcing the cultists back and buying herself some space. That was the last Calia saw before Ha’nim was abruptly on her.

Her suspicion had been right; he had been a Keeper. The lunges and parries he executed with his greatsword were exact copies of those taught in the Scuola, and leagues above the manic fighting style of his followers. It didn’t matter. From the first time their blades met, Calia knew that she had the upper hand solely due to the age difference. His first few attacks lacked the strength to overpower her, and those were all Calia permitted him before she went on the offensive. Her strikes were fuelled by anger and determination: if she could take him out quickly, perhaps it would break the spell that forced these people to fight them. She didn’t want to kill them unless they forced her.

There was a battle cry coming from her right and Calia had to turn away from her target to face the guardsman who was charging at her. Beneath his helmet, his face was twisted into an ugly grimace. Calia steadied herself, getting ready to deal with him quickly before this fight turned into a two on one. But a second before their blades met, a wave of bitingly cold air suddenly came from the centre of the room where Rhena was fighting, missing Calia by inches and completely encasing the guard in ice. His face remained stuck in its angry expression, with his eyes the only thing still able to move.

Taking that to mean that her Sa’ira was doing well, Calia turned her attention back towards the former keeper. Too late, she saw that he wasn’t attacking. Instead Ha’nim had raised his hand, focussing on her. Calia felt his psionic grip brush her mind – and the keeper recoiled, his eyes widening. His face turned ashen. “What…what in the name of the Black Guardian is that?!” he gasped, staring at her.

Calia realized what he must have felt, and she answered with a grim smile. “You don’t want to know.”

It had clearly unsettled her opponent, because his defence was becoming sloppy. Calia rapidly pushed him back towards the edges of the room, away from the bulk of the fighting around Rhena. His back was almost against the wall when Calia sensed something behind her and had to break off her assault for a second time – just in time to parry the lunge of one of the cultists who were coming to their leader’s rescue.

Now she found herself surrounded. For the first time today, Calia was glad that she had donned her keeper armour, because even with all her prowess she couldn’t meet all the attacks that were now raining down on her. Most of the cultists’ blows glanced harmlessly off her plate, but one struck close enough to cut her brow right above her left eye. The old keeper was also back in the fight. His greatsword met hers with a cry of, “Witch!” Calia stumbled backwards, and as she tried to regain her footing, she saw that the man’s eyes had begun to glow red.

In that moment, an inexplicable chill washed over Calia. The feeling of sudden dread made her spin around, completely disregarding the danger she exposed herself to by doing so. Like magnets her eyes were drawn to Rhena.

What she saw made her blood freeze in her veins: Her friend had dealt with all but one of her opponents, rapidly moving to overpower him, too – but above her on the stairs stood the two entropists, out of reach of both her or Calia. They were facing each other, muttering unintelligible spells, and between them a hellish green mist had formed. As their chants reached a pitch, it started to flicker and crackle. The entropists’ heads turned towards Rhena.

“Sa’ira!” Calia cried, abandoning everything to run towards her. She had never felt such fear as she did now; not in a long time.

Her friend heard her. Time seemed to slow as she looked towards Calia and their eyes met. Slowly, too slowly, Rhena turned around to the entropists. Calia saw her start to perform a spell, but before she could muster any form of defence, an arc of green light burst forth from the mages’ hands and enveloped her.

Calia was knocked back as the entire centre of the room pulsated with the deadly magic. It was blindingly bright. When the spell finally died down, Calia pushed herself to her feet. She squinted against the green fog, her heart beating madly in her chest as she tried to catch a glimpse of her friend.

She couldn’t see anything.

"Sa'ira…?!" Calia cried, breaking out from her shock. Completely forgetting about the enemies still at her back, she rushed to the spot where her companion had just stood a second ago. There was nothing. Smouldering pieces of Rhena’s black-and-gold robes floated in the air, settling on the keeper’s armour like ashes.

No. No, this couldn't be. Calia felt like she was falling; like the ground had just disappeared beneath her. Her legs buckled and she sank to the ground, even as her mind feverishly denied what had just happened. _No. No._

There were shouts and footsteps all around her. The sounds were reaching her ears as if from a great distance away. The men and women who were still able to move were circling her, but not attacking, watching her warily. “What is she doing?” one of the ragged men asked nervously.

 _No. She can’t be gone. Not like this, not now_.

"Oh, would you look at her," sneered the voice of one of the arcanists. "Did we just kill her beloved?"

"It's not enough to atone!" the other cried. "String her up. We'll burn her, as a sacrifice to the Breaker."

" ** _Burn_**." Calia repeated.

It wasn't her voice that spoke but something deeper, darker. It surged within her, with such a power that she knew she wouldn't be able to control it. For the first time since she could remember, neither did she want to. Her limbs started to move of their own accord. With the Other taking over her mind and body, they rose to their feet.

The air was filled with the smell of fire and blood; intoxicating. They turned to the arcanist. The sneer on the woman’s face disappeared. It was replaced by worry, and then by fear. _Good_ , the creature thought. She had killed Calia’s friend. She was going to pay. And it wouldn’t be slow.

The woman took an uncertain step back – and they lashed out, with all their fury, and she burst into flame. As her screams filled the air, they turned on the second arcanist, who was watching his companion burn in stunned disbelief. _Kill him_. Within a heartbeat they were on him and ripped him apart. Black tendrils of solid shadow were seeping out from their hands, lending them strength. They felt powerful. Murderous. _Alive_.

They turned towards the rest. Most seemed frozen to the spot, staring at them wide-eyed. A few were turning tail to flee. _Futile_. A tendril reached out and collapsed the entrance, burying one of them under the rubble. The stench of fear was beginning to drown out everything else. They jumped back into the centre of the room, right into the midst of the trapped prey. Panicked eyes were fixed on them from all around. Innocents. Yet they too had played their part. They too deserved to die. To be torn apart and devoured.

 _No_ , a rebellious, human thought reared in their mind. _Stop!_

An inhuman roar erupted from their mouth and the ceiling shook. They would likely bring the entire cavern down on them all. _Good_.

A hand closed around her arm.

They glanced down, furious to be interrupted. Their eyes saw nothing but empty air where the hand touched them, but they could feel the life there. They moved to burn it away.

Before they could, the air started to shimmer and the person became visible. Suddenly, they were looking into emerald eyes, mere inches away. The woman was yelling something that they couldn’t hear through the roaring in their ears. Her lips formed the name _Calia_.

The angry fire stopped before it could incinerate her. Calia stared in shock at her alive Sa’ira, unable to comprehend. This wasn’t possible. She had seen the entropists’ spell hit her…

 _Kill her_.

“No!” Calia cried, her voice her own again. The rage _it_ felt was suddenly overtaken by fear. She tried to push Rhena away. “No! Stay away from me!”

The other woman didn’t budge. She shook her head, her grip tightening. Didn’t she know how close _it_ was to killing her?! Calia could see the fear in her eyes. No; she knew.

 _Burn_.

 _No_. She wouldn’t let go this time. Couldn’t. She braced all her willpower against _its_ rage, shutting out all thoughts of _How?_ or _Why?_ None of that mattered if she let go. Everyone around her would die if she did. But she could fight this. She had to.

Unbidden, a thought appeared in her mind, a memory. Rhena had visited her in the Scuola, after Castle Dal’Galar. She had sat down and just – talked. Calia had been too angry to really listen, but some of the things the other woman had said had remained with her, turning over and over in her subconscious. She could still hear her words; could see them in the way Rhena was looking at her now, imploring her to hold on.

 _Maybe it is you trying to fight it so hard that makes it strong_.

At first it had sounded as if she was advising her to simply give up and lose this battle. Calia had bristled at the very thought. But that wasn’t what her companion had said, and afterwards Calia had understood the unspoken part: _Stop trying to fight yourself._

Maybe if she could stop hating herself for this monster inside her, it would no longer have such a hold over her. Calia wanted to believe that, but all her life she had tried to control her emotions so that she wouldn’t lose control. Trying to stop now, with this creature of rage already fighting her for control, seemed like suicide. She could only barely hold it back from killing her companion. She had only gotten to this point because she had allowed her walls to come down and to make herself vulnerable, even just for a moment, even just for one person…

The person who was still holding out beside her, trusting Calia with her life. Believing that she could get this right.

In the midst of her turmoil, a sudden gleam of metal caught Calia’s eye. While most of the people were cowering around them, one was on his feet and charging towards them. It was Ha’nim, his eyes glowing red and his greatsword raised above his head. His teeth were bared like a rabid wolf’s. His charge had all the carelessness and wildness of one, too. And he was coming up behind Rhena’s back, who was so fixated on Calia that she hadn’t even noticed the danger.

Calia reacted completely out of instinct. Abandoning her battle for control with the shadow inside her, she grabbed a hold of her friend and threw her to the side. Ha’nim’s sword cut through the air where she had just been, scraping across Calia’s armour – and Calia, with a fury that was all her own, swung her greatsword, cutting clean through his robes and the flesh and ribs beneath. With a pained scream, Ha’nim’s charge turned into a fall, his weapon spinning from his grasp as he hit the ground.

Calia stood frozen to the spot. Waiting for the shadow to lash out again. She had lost her focus, had let her guard down. Again.

Nothing happened. While the fury she had felt before was still simmering inside her, the bloodlust and the murder had gone.

“Bloody hell.” A voice drifted into her consciousness. “That’s thrice you’ve saved me now.”

Calia turned. Rhena was picking herself up from the ground, seemingly unharmed. She looked at Calia with a contrite expression on her face, and that was simply too much. Calia exclaimed, "I told you to stay away from me!"

"You did."

"Then why didn't you?! I could have killed you!"

"But you didn't kill me." Rhena rubbed her neck. "You know that I've always been terrible at following orders."

“You…!” Calia wanted to hit her. She had never been so angry at anybody in her life. Her hand rose of its own accord, found her friend’s shoulder – and pulled her close against her. She was shaking. “You’re alive,” she whispered.

“Hey, hey.” The other woman hugged her back tightly. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

“I thought you…”

“I know. I know. I’m so sorry.” Rhena said. Like Calia’s, it came out like a whisper. She drew back a fraction and rose to the tips of her toes to rest their foreheads together.

Calia closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure if the touch was meant to calm her down or whatever else _on Vyn_ her friend thought she was doing, but for once she wouldn’t argue. She needed to stay in this moment. To make herself believe that this was real and that her Sa’ira was really alive and well in her arms. And that her shadow would not erupt the next second and take her away from her again. She heard Rhena sigh, her exhale ghosting against her neck. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I wasn’t thinking. Everything happened so fast and I just…reacted.”

“How…?” Calia finally pulled away to look at her. Apart from a few tears in her robes, there was nothing to suggest that her friend had just been battling for her life. “What…how did you survive that blast?!”

Rhena gave a rueful smile. “Time manipulation; the little trick I picked up, remember?”

A slightly mad laugh escaped Calia’s lips, hearing her recall their banter from before the fight. She shook her head. “But…”

“That got me out of the blast zone – only just; without your warning more than just my robes would have gotten singed – and before time caught up, I took an invisibility potion. I thought it worked perfectly.” Another guilty look. “My plan was to sneak behind those mages and take them out… but I didn’t think about how this would look for you. I’m just so stupid sometimes! I’m sorry I put you through that.”

Calia could only nod. Her racing heart was finally starting to slow down and she felt exhausted like she had just run a mile in full plate. Too many things had hit her in far too short an amount of time. And what had happened there, with _it_ , how it seemed to have just stopped… Calia already knew that she would be puzzling over that for days, trying to figure out whether she had done something right or just gotten lucky. But at the moment she simply wanted to turn her brain off for a few minutes

“Are you… are you okay?” Rhena asked carefully.

“I’m fine. I just need a minute…”

Suddenly Rhena growled; a near feral noise, and pushed past Calia. At first, Calia was confused, not sure what she was doing. Then she saw that she was heading for Ha’nim, who was still groaning on the floor, trying to heave himself up. With a kick, Rhena put a stop to his efforts and sent him sprawling back onto the stone. “Bastard!” she snarled, drawing her sword from its sheath.

“Sa’ira!” Calia cried. “Stop!”

Rhena halted, the sword raised above her head. Slowly she turned around to Calia, and the Keeper was taken aback by the fury that burned in her companion’s eyes. For a frightful second, she wondered if the Red Madness was taking a hold of her. Then Rhena blinked, and her eyes seemed to really perceive Calia again. “He’s responsible for all of this,” she said. _For what happened to you_. Her voice was full of barely controlled anger. “Are you really asking me to spare him?”

“No.” Calia cast a glance down at the man who was looking at her with his glowing red eyes, and her expression turned steely. “But we’re not handing him any more victories. It’s more important that we take care of these people now.” she said, nodding at the Undercity dwellers around them. Some of them had raised their heads from the ground and were looking at her with evident fear. She swallowed, refusing to let it touch her.

After a silence that felt longer than it probably was, her companion sighed and lowered her weapon. “I don’t agree. But I’ll follow your lead,” she said, echoing Calia’s statement from before this madness had started.

“Fools.” Ha’nim gasped. “You’re going to burn, just like the rest of us.”

Rhena spun her sword in her hand and cracked the pommel down on his forehead with such force that Calia worried she might still have killed him. She didn’t have much time – or inclination – to worry about him for long, though, because the people around them started to get up. A handful were wounded, blood seeping from gashes in their skin where Rhena’s sword had struck them. Calia felt an absurd wave of relief that the sight didn’t trigger that terrifying bloodlust she had felt earlier. The people’s faces, however, were full of confusion. Some looked around wide-eyed, as if unsure how they had gotten here.

Calia spied the timid woman and helped her to her feet. “Are you injured?”

The woman scrambled away. She stared at Calia. “What…what are you?!” she whispered.

“A Keeper of the Order,” Calia answered, trying to ignore the guilty weight in her chest. The woman had every right to be afraid of her. She had almost killed her. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

It was obvious that the woman didn’t believe her.

“It’s alright; you’re safe now.” Rhena made herself heard. “You can go home now. Nobody is going to hurt you anymore.”

One of the men asked, “What about _her_?” He pointed warily at Calia.

“’Her’ is going to clear the entrance now,” Calia said defiantly. She remembered that one of the men had gotten trapped under the collapsing rubble. Maybe he had survived. _Focus on the important things first. Getting lost won’t help you now_. “I would appreciate your help,” she added.

As expected, none of them helped. The Undercity people gathered at the furthest corner of the cavern and started whispering to each other. At least they didn’t seem outright hostile anymore, so Calia assumed that the unconscious Ha’nim’s psionic spell had at least waned. Shaking her head clear, she grabbed one of the pickaxes and started on the rubble. If they needed some time to process what had happened to them, fine. They weren’t the only ones.

Rhena appeared next to her, likewise armed with a pickaxe. Their eyes met for a long moment, until the Prophetess shook her head. “Assholes,” she muttered, starting on the rubble.

“Can you blame them?” Calia sighed.

“I can, yes. I’m starting to question why we bothered.”

“You don’t mean that,” Calia protested sharply. Cynicism was a dangerous thing for her Sa’ira, and she wouldn’t let her start down this path.

“Oh, I do. I’m so sick of people looking at you like that; like they’re seeing some…some… _ugh_!” Rhena’s emerald eyes blazed. “If you’d let me, I’d be going over there this second and give them a mouthful of what I think of that shit.”

“And what would you say? ‘Don’t worry, she’s not a monster.’? ‘She won’t hurt you.’? You can’t expect them to believe that after what they’ve been through.” Calia saw her companion’s mouth open in protest and raised her hand to stop her. “And I know you think of me as a good person. I think I could be, if I had the chance. I’ll always try. But you saw what happened. You saw _what I turned into_. I have to live with that. Even if I never let that side of me show ever again, that doesn’t erase the pain that I could have caused these people – and that I _have_ already caused so many others.”

“It doesn’t erase the good in you, either!” Her companion brought her pickaxe down hard enough to remain stuck in the rubble. She looked at Calia. “You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit. Do you know how many assholes I’ve met who would slaver at the mere thought of having this terrible power that you have? Do you know how many honest, good people would queue up to have you in their lives, if they’d only gotten to know you the way I have?”

Calia turned her head away to focus on the rubble. She wasn’t going to blush, she told herself. Not to mention that Rhena’s view was obviously heavily biased.

Rhena placed a hand on her shoulder. Her voice had lost its angry edge and turned soft as she spoke again: “Has it ever occurred to you that you’re worth more than the people you’re risking your life for?”

Calia stubbornly met her gaze. “No, it hasn’t, because that’s not how it works!”

They stared at each other. Suddenly, a smile broke on her Sa’ira’s face. Rhena looked away and laughed quietly; a bright sound that sounded alien in this cavern. “And that, right there, is exactly why I think you are better.” she told Calia.

Her smile was contagious. Calia chuckled, slightly embarrassed. It felt good to laugh together, even if she wasn’t completely sure they were laughing about the same thing.

By now they had cleared most of the entrance and Calia could see the man who had been trapped underneath it. To her relief, he seemed to be breathing. If they could get him and the rest of these people back to their families, at least some good would have come of this. And… Calia slipped a hand into her pocket, suddenly remembering. Her fingers closed around the wooden toy horse that she had found in the hoard of the Blind Miner. Somehow she hadn’t lost it in all that commotion. She still had to return this to the little girl, too.

“Let’s try and get out of here,” her Sa’ira said. She climbed over the rubble and offered Calia a hand to help her through. “Drag this guy out, drag the asshole in chief to jail, get those people back to the Undercity – and then I think we've earned a break."

"A break sounds extremely good." Calia sighed and took her hand.

* * *

The Dancing Nomad was one of Ark’s most well-liked taverns, or at least that was what Calia had heard. She had very rarely visited it, and that had mostly been official business. But on this evening it lived up to its reputation, filled with customers, music and the curious mixture of smells that only a tavern could seemingly produce. Their small table by the wall was a bit removed from the main crowd, but the people’s steady hum of conversation was so omnipresent that they might as well have been straight in the middle of them. After the silence of the caverns beneath the Tar Pit, this felt downright surreal.

"So,” Jespar Dal’Varek said. He set down his ale tankard and looked at the two women in turn. He wore a look that seemed to be half bafflement and half amusement. "Let me get this straight. You went into the deepest depths of the Undercity – because a little girl had lost her toy."

"Among other reasons," the Prophetess relativized.

"You then came face to face with a creature that's only supposed to exist in legend, killed it, before stumbling over a mad cult that had decided to worship that very same creature you just killed."

"It wasn't my best timing, no."

"The cult then proceeded to attack you, and got more than they bargained for."

"Most of them came out of it unharmed." Rhena threw Calia a quick glance. Underneath the table, her hand squeezed hers. "Only a couple died."

"No thanks to me," Calia muttered. She took a deep swig of the ale. It tasted bad, but not quite as horrible as she’d assumed. She didn’t have much experience with alcohol, but she’d figured that now wasn’t a bad time to start. It did seem to help with slowing her racing mind down a bit. Now she understood what people meant when they said that they didn’t drink these beverages for the taste.

Jespar sent her a curious look, but didn't pry. “And after all that heroic business was done, you two – what, came straight here to have a chat with my charming likeness?”

“We came for the ale,” Rhena deadpanned. “If I’d known you’d be here pestering us, we’d have visited the False Dog, instead.”

“You know, that actually hurts. A little bit.” Jespar’s grin belied his words. He raised his cup. “Well then. To the ale, I guess. And to unexpected, yet very welcome meetings.”

“To the unexpected,” Rhena said.

“To the unexpected,” Calia echoed.

They drank. The ale didn’t become any better the more one drank of it, but Calia welcomed the light buzz it seemed to cause in her head. She sat down her tankard and looked around. All around them there were people drinking and laughing and dancing. ‘Surreal’ truly was the only word she could find to describe it. Thinking back to everything that had happened down in the caverns not even an hour before, she found it hard to believe that this scene was taking place in the same eventuality. It was as if these people had forgotten that they lived in a city under siege. Or at least they were determined to forget.

Calia couldn’t forget so easily, even with the ale. She kept thinking back to the people they had supposedly rescued. Though reluctantly, the Undercity dwellers had followed the two of them back to the Tar Pit – and immediately hurried away from them once they’d reached it – so at least they were safe. Maybe they could go back to some form of normal life. The former guardsman, once released from his ice block, had been less cooperative and attempted to attack them. He now occupied a cell next to his leader, whom, after a fortunately brief dispute with the Rhalâta, they had managed to haul to the Ark prison. Presumably someone would treat Ha’nim’s wound so that he wouldn’t bleed out, but the two keepers hadn’t stayed around to check. After Calia’s warning about his psionic abilities, the guards didn’t seem that well-disposed towards him, either.

And then there were the casualties. Aside from the two arcanists, whom Calia could not bring herself to feel sorry for, Rhena and her had been forced to kill three of the civilians in the heat of battle. One of them by Calia’s hand. She wasn’t naïve; she had learned a long time ago that in a fight this could very rarely be avoided. Not if one wanted to survive. But it still preoccupied her.

“Do you think they will be alright?” she asked Rhena.

“The Undercity people? I don’t know.” Rhena sent her a look that made Calia suspect the other woman knew what was going on inside her mind. “I’ll try to check up on them, the next time I find the time to go down there. Perhaps they’ll have calmed down by then.”

“I keep wondering what we could have done differently,” Calia voiced.

“Don’t,” Jespar warned. “That’s a way of thinking that will drive you insane very fast. I’ve come to just roll with whatever punches life deals me. There’s no point in worrying about what you can’t change anymore, anyway.”

“True, but that’s sometimes easier said than done,” Rhena replied sombrely. She took another deep swig from her tankard before pushing the rest over to Jespar. They exchanged a look, and Calia felt like there was something unspoken passing between them that she wasn’t privy to. “I think we‘ve all had our share of things that we can’t get off our minds.”

Calia looked at her. For a frightful second, she wondered whether Rhena had spoken to the mercenary about what had happened in Old Dothulgrad and Castle Dal’galar. She could see that the two of them were close; what if…

Calia shook off those thoughts. She hadn’t caught Jespar looking at her like the novices at the temple would look at her. Surely there would have been _something_ if her Sa’ira had told him. For all her faults, Rhena had proved that she could keep a secret, hadn’t she? She had never talked to Calia about Jespar, either.

Still, a sliver of doubt at the back of her mind remained.

“What have you been doing in the meantime?” Rhena asked the mercenary.

He shrugged. “I wish I could report something as interesting as your tale, but I’m afraid I have to disappoint you. Mostly I’ve just been wandering around Ark, pondering about some things. Aside from getting a tinnitus from that very vocal bread woman outside, I have no injuries or incidents to report. People seem a bit tense; nobody has even tried to insult or mug me once! Oh, but there does seem to be a bit of commotion up in the Sun Temple.” Jespar nodded meaningfully at Rhena. “The Order is wondering where their Prophetess went. Apparently that Starling’s airship is almost ready to fly and they are looking for you.”

“They’ll survive without me for a couple of hours.” Rhena stroked her chin absentmindedly. So, we’re really going to go to the Star City, then.”

“If it still exists,” Calia put in. She had grown wary of things that seemed certain.

“And if the rust bucket doesn’t malfunction and sends us crashing and burning back to Vyn,” Jespar added. He raised his tankard in a mock salute. “I’d like to point out that of all the ways I thought I might go out, this was not one of them.”

“I somehow can’t see you dying in a ship crash,” Rhena reassured him. “If you go out, you’d do it in a way that would let you get the last word in.”

“Did one of your visions tell you that?”

“No, I just know you.”

“That’s comforting. Thanks.”

“Excuse me,” Calia made herself heard, addressing Jespar, “but why are you choosing to come on this mission? It doesn’t sound like you are in it just for the money.”

Jespar raised an eyebrow at her. “Whoever claimed that I was, Mydame?”

“I don’t mean to be rude. But the Keepers always just called you the mercenary.” Her Sa’ira had usually used the term ‘treasure hunter’, but that didn’t serve to clear up this man’s role in all this any more, either. Calia wanted to know who she was about to go into battle with. More than that, though, she was plainly curious. Curious what this man was like; curious if the impression the keepers had of him was true – what she had seen made her doubt it - ; and curious why her Sa’ira seemed to trust him so implicitly.

(And – if Calia was honest with herself – she wanted to know whether there was a reason for the inexplicable envy she felt at the easy banter the two of them seemed to share.)

Jespar laughed. “People say a lot of things when the day is long. I heard they called you a witch.”

“And worse,” Calia confirmed.

“Hm.” Jespar nodded. Calia couldn’t read his look. Was that curiosity? Appreciation? “To answer your question; of course I’m in it for the money. Getting paid so well never hurt anyone. But I can’t deny that there’s also a certain element of – personal curiosity involved. I want to see what we’ll find up there and how this thing ends. If I didn’t come, well, then I would just be constantly wondering what I was missing out on, wouldn’t I?”

Calia could relate to that. She, too, needed to see this through to the end. “It feels a bit surreal sometimes, doesn’t it?” she thought aloud. “To know how much hinges on this mission. I became a Keeper to try and do something good, at least in some small measure, but I never imagined ever being a part of something like this.”

“If I believed in fate, I’d say the two of you ended up right where you’re supposed to be, then.” Jespar shook his head. “For my part, I doubt the fate of the world hinges on one little sell-sword being there. To tell the truth, sometimes I myself wonder how I ended up in this. I’ve never wanted to be part of something momentous – give me a good pipe of peaceweed and an old ruin to explore, and I’ll be happy any day. But now here I am on this ride, and I’m certainly not getting off before I see where it’s headed.”

“What if this curiosity ends up killing you?” Calia inquired. “Whatever awaits us in the coming days, some of us might not come back.”

Jespar shrugged. “As your Order says; I’m a mercenary. Getting killed has been a professional risk for me for as long as I can remember. But I haven’t yet found another profession that would afford me such freedom and adventure, seeing how I’m neither magically nor medically gifted. And travelling to an ancient city in the sky is about as adventurous as one can be. So whatever may happen, I can’t see myself being anywhere else.”

Calia had to smile. While their reasons differed, he had summed up her disposition perfectly. “Me neither.”

“See? Then I wouldn’t worry about any of this too much.” Jespar chuckled. “Though I can only imagine how future generations will remember this moment. Ahem: ‘A Keeper, a mercenary and a prophet walked into a tavern. They saved the world. The end.’”

Rhena joined in their laughter, but there was something in her voice made Calia turn to look at her. Her friend didn’t sound like her heart was really in it. She was fussing with the cloth of her sleeves. “You’re both so sure in what you are and what you want to do,” she voiced. “You know, I keep wondering what exactly I am. ‘The Prophetess’. It’s like I’m only defined by this one terrible thing we have to stop.”

Jespar sent her a critical look. “What have I told you about overthinking things?”

Rhena sent a sour look back at him. “A lot. But just for a minute, try to see this from my point of view. What do I do in the case that we actually succeed and survive this? Like, nominally I’m part of the Order, but I keep feeling like an imposter every time I actually wear my robes.” She glanced down at herself, as if she was trying to figure out what she looked like. ”I don’t think I’m really cut out to be a Keeper. After all this is done, I think I’ll leave Ark for a while. Maybe travel the world, if it still exists. Gotta have something to look forward to, right?”

“Right so,” Jespar confirmed. “If it’s any consolation, I am rather confident that whatever profession you decide to take up, you’ll excel at it. If your history with magic is any indication, at least.”

“Probably,” Calia agreed, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in her chest. _So this really is it. Just a little longer until this is over, and then…_

In her heart she had known that her friend’s staying with the Order was at best temporary – Rhena did not well fit anywhere into the Keepers’ neat, tidy structures. She was bound to move on sooner or later. But a part of Calia had still hoped that she would stay, at least for a little while. She _wanted_ her to stay. Maybe Rhena would consider it, if Calia told her how she felt. But Calia knew that she couldn’t ask this of her. Her friend needed her freedom, and she needed a break from this burden of saving the world. No matter how much it might hurt her personally, Calia was not going to stand in the way of that.

Thankfully, her Sa’ira was oblivious to her thought process. She sent her and Jespar a grateful look. “Thanks for the encouragement. For what it’s worth, I’m very glad that you both are coming with on this expedition, wherever it leads. I have a feeling that a lot of strange, unexpected things are just waiting to get the jump on us. This way, there’s at least one thing I can rely on.”

“Now, don’t get sentimental,” Jespar chided, without malice. “But you’re welcome.”

Calia looked away, glancing out the window. It had gotten dark outside, the sun sunken below the rooftops of the city. As eager as she had been for this day to end not too long ago, now the sight made her heart sink. “We ought to go back to the Temple soon. If the Starling’s ship is finished, it won’t be long before we’re taking off. We need to be well-rested.” She glanced at Rhena. “Especially you, Sa’ira.”

Rhena looked back at her. She looked less exhausted than she had in the Tar Pit, but the signs of sleep-depravation were still visible on her face. And yet, as Calia watched, a stubborn look was spreading over her features. Stubborn and something else. Calia couldn’t quite read her expression. Just as she was about to inquire, Rhena abruptly stood from her chair. "I need to get something from my house,” she announced. “Give me ten minutes, will you?"

She put on her cloak and walked out the door. Calia looked after her with some consternation. She looked askance at Jespar, but the mercenary just shrugged in a 'what the Black Guardian do I know' way. "You get used to it. Disappearing and reappearing without an explanation is what she does." he said.

"I've noticed," Calia agreed. She took another swig from the tankard. Maybe it would help her figure out what that look had been about. "Since when does she own a house in Ark?" she wondered aloud.

"Beats me. I assumed as a Keeper she'd be staying in the Temple now, but I guess she prefers her privacy." Jespar grinned. "I must've rubbed off on her."

"Hm."

He eyed her curiously. "You know, a lot of you Keepers would object to having a drink with an immoral mercenary like me, even though I’ve worked with the Order for a while now. Yet here I sit, with not one but two. Two very impressive ones, might I add. This world really does some strange things when it's about to end."

"It's not going to end. Not if Rhena has any say in it," Calia disagreed.

"True. She could probably stop the apocalypse just by staring at it crossly. Have you ever been on the receiving end of that judgemental stare? Brrr!"

"No..." Calia hadn't even known that her friend had such an expression.

"Hm. Guess you're a better person than me."

They fell into silence. Though Jespar spoke in jest, Calia hadn’t heard that sentiment for the first time today. Rhena had said almost the same thing, down in the tunnels. That, and the fact that both of them had also called her a Keeper almost in the same breath, felt very ironic to Calia: not long ago, she had honestly toyed with the idea of leaving the Order; maybe seclude herself on some remote island to stop herself from harming anyone ever again. Because how could she ever begin to do something good, if she couldn’t even control her own mind and body? Everything had seemed so hopeless to her then that she hadn’t even considered the pain she would cause her Sa’ira by leaving. Or how disappointed her father Tyras would be with her if she simply gave up. Now Calia was very glad she hadn’t listened to those impulses.

Three things had stopped her. The first was the critical mission they still had to complete. She simply couldn’t walk out now that the state of the world still hung in the balance. The second had been her Sa’ira joining her in the Scuola. As much as Calia loathed her for it at the time, that visit had reminded her of what she still had to lose if she left – and what was possible if she stayed.

And the third… Calia thought back to the end of their excursion into the depths; to one of the few bright spots of this day. On their way back to the surface, she had stopped by the tavern in the Undercity to find the little girl and return her toy horse. Still preoccupied with the events in the tunnels, the girl’s reaction had positively blindsided her: Mali had squealed with joy upon seeing her toy, as happy as if she had found a long lost friend. Calia had felt glad she didn’t have to explain what it had taken to get it back to her. Mali had looked up at her with that beaming smile. “Thank you! I knew you’d come back!” Without waiting for the adult to find an answer to that, she had run off, exclaiming, “I’m gonna show him to Lennard! He’s carving me a new horse, but now we can both have one. You’re the bestest!”

Even though she disagreed with the girl’s assessment, that memory still brought a smile to Calia’s face.

Her consciousness returned to the Dancing Nomad, finding that Jespar was looking at her with that amused look of his; that humour that seemed to mask honest concern. “You in there, Mydame Keeper?”

“Of course.” As wary as Calia had been of him in the beginning, Jespar seemed to be good company. She thought she was starting to see what her Sa’ira saw in him. “Just…got a lot on the mind, you see.”

“Don’t we all.” The mercenary set down his tankard, eying her for a moment. "Say, could I ask you for a favour?"

Calia was taken aback by his sudden seriousness. "Of course," she replied cautiously.

"Just see that our friend doesn't get herself killed."

Calia worried at her lower lip. Little did he know that this had been her greatest concern. She deflected, "Shouldn't you be telling her that?"

"Yes, but she's not going to listen." Jespar cocked his head; a gesture so similar to Rhena's that it was downright eerie. "And I have a feeling you're going to do a better job looking out for her than she will."

“I’m not…” Calia started, but cut herself off when someone came running into the tavern and came to a stop right next to their table. It was a boy, no older than ten winters. He looked at the two of them critically for a moment and then nodded to himself, as if having confirmed something.

“Hello?” Jespar greeted him. “I’m afraid they don’t serve your height here, pal.”

“Hello, Mysir. Mydame. You’re a Keeper, right?” the boy asked Calia.

“I am,” she confirmed, puzzled.

“And you’re the treasure hunter?” he said, looking at Jespar.

Jespar smiled. “Indeed.”

“Then I have a message for you. Ahem. ‘Meet me at the spot where we met on my first day here.’ That’s the message.” The boy was already on his way again. “Don’t know why the lady couldn’t tell you so herself, but I won’t complain about the coin!” With that, he was off.

Calia looked to Jespar, getting just as puzzled a look in return. The mercenary glanced at the door where the boy had disappeared, as if it somehow held any answers. “What’s she up to now?”

Safe to say, Calia did not have an answer. “Do you know what spot he was talking about?”

“That part’s easy: the old well in the market square.” Jespar drained the rest of his tankard and stood up. “We met up there after she had gotten her first taste of Ark. I waited there for a good while; for a girl from Ostian she did seem to get turned around rather easily in a big city. But I didn’t think she could get lost on her way from there to the Dancing Nomad.”

They exchanged a look. “What’s she up to?” Calia echoed him.

“Let’s go and find out.”

Calia truly didn’t know what to expect as they left the Dancing Nomad. Her expectations included for this to be an elaborate plot by the High Ones to sabotage their mission somehow. At this point, nothing, no matter how strange, seemed impossible.

It was thus somewhat a surprise when they arrived at the market square and found only a single figure standing by the well waiting for them, still wearing the same clothes and mysterious expression as when she had left the tavern. Rhena spied them and waved. “Good; I thought for a moment the message didn’t reach you!” she called, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“What’s this about?” Jespar asked for the both of them. “What’s so important that you couldn’t just come back to the Nomad and tell us?”

“It’s not about telling; it’s about showing,” Rhena replied, her lip twitching upwards. “I wanted to surprise you, and for that I can’t have you pestering me with questions on the way. So come over here and hold hands.”

Calia only raised a questioning eyebrow.

Rhena rolled her eyes. “Just trust me, okay? I need to use a teleport spell, and that should work best if we’re all in the same spot.”

“A teleport spell?” Calia repeated.

“Where to exactly, if I may ask?” Jespar wanted to know.

“That’s the surprise. Now don’t be a spoilsport and get over here!”

After exchanging another glance with the mercenary, Calia acquiesced and stood next to her Sa’ira, taking her hand as instructed. She did trust Rhena, but she had also never teleported before. Didn’t one need experience for this? She felt a little bit nervous.

“Right.” Rhena stated once Jespar had joined them on her other side. She licked her lips. “Here goes. I’ve never done this with other people before, so let’s hope we don’t end up in a wall somewhere.”

“Hold on,” Jespar protested, “maybe we should talk about…”

Calia felt an uncomfortable tugging sensation in her stomach, as if someone were yanking her upwards. Then the square around them became blurry and, within the span of a heartbeat, vanished. The next thing she knew, they were standing on a flowery field somewhere. Blades of grass tickled Calia’s legs and somewhere around them she could hear an owl hooting. She felt slightly queasy and had to take a moment to steady herself.

“…this.” Jespar finished. He felt up his body with his hands, as if to confirm that he still had all his parts.

Rhena proudly placed her hands on her hips. “Perfect landing,” she stated.

Calia looked around. Their field bordered a rocky hill on one side and a small wooden tower on the other. Behind the tower loomed a larger building, and after a moment of confusion, Calia recognized it as the side of the Sun Temple. They were still in Ark, probably only minutes away from the path one might normally take up to the temple. “We could have just walked.” she said, turning to her Sa’ira.

“Yes, but that would have ruined the surprise.” Rhena’s smile was almost shy.

Calia glanced down. Too preoccupied with getting her bearings, she hadn’t even noticed the setup in front of her. Near the foot of the hill, a small square had been cleared, making space for a small pyramid of wooden logs stacked against each other. In the grass around it, three furs had been laid out, each big enough for one person. Upon them were placed a curious assortment of mead bottles, books and what looked to Calia like stacks of peaceweed. Then Rhena snapped her fingers and the wooden pile caught fire, sending flames high up into the air.

When Calia looked back to Rhena, an amused smile was fighting its way onto her lips. “You set up a campfire for us?”

“Well…yes?” Rhena anxiously drummed her fingers against her elbow. “Don’t you like it?”

“No, no,” Calia corrected quickly, “When you left I just didn’t picture…”

“I’m not sure I got it right; I’ve never actually done this before…”

Calia hadn’t, either. “It looks good.”

“Thank you. I thought we could extend the evening a bit before we went back to the temple. I just – wanted to do something nice for you, you know?”

Rhena was still wearing that strange, downright shy expression on her face, and Calia found herself unable to reply. Over time, she had come to terms with the other woman’s unwillingness to leave her side, with her snarky quips and even with her persistent, occasionally brutal honesty. But that shy _something_ with which Rhena was looking at her now was new, and Calia had no battle plan for this. _I just wanted to do something nice for you_. All the words seemed to have suddenly fled her head.

The mercenary came to her rescue. “How did you get all this stuff up here so quickly?” he wanted to know from her Sa’ira.

Rhena cleared her throat, tearing her gaze away and breaking the odd spell. “Uh…well, I set up a travel spell to quickly go between here and my house, so that’s that. And I put most of this stuff in my spectral chest, so that I didn’t have to travel back and forth multiple times. As for the set-up,” she gave a small shrug, “just a bit of very careful, unpractised telepathy to get it done quicker. Oh, and elementalism for the fire.”

Jespar shook his head, visibly amused. “However did you cope before you got your magic, mydame?”

“Well enough, _Mysir_.” Rhena shot back, a bit of the usual snark returning to her voice. “Magic just makes things…easier.”

“The Wise Hermit has a saying about easy solutions.”

“I’m sure he does. Could you just be impressed with me for a moment, considering I have never done this before?”

“It is very impressive.” Calia said. There was a wide, stupid smile on her lips, and once again she couldn’t seem to get rid of it. Not that she really wanted to. A million thoughts and emotions were flitting through her head right then, but, following what Jespar had advised earlier, they had no right to stop her from enjoying the moment. She sat down on one of the furs, taking a moment to appreciate how close they were grouped together on one side of the campfire. "I’m happy to extend the evening for a bit, especially since you made such an effort. But Jespar might have a point. You rely on your magic a lot now," she felt compelled to add. "What if you strain yourself too much and run out of magicka?"

Rhena huffed, sitting down next to her. "Alright, first; I literally carry a small army of potions in my backpack, so that will never happen. Second; even when you leave aside all my spells, I'd like to think that I've become a good enough fighter to make do in most situations. And third; my magic has a lot of benefits, if you two hadn't noticed. If not for my detect life spell, we might have just walked into that cultist group."

"If your spell worked on Lost Ones, the Blind Miner might not have gotten the jump on us." Calia shot back.

"I'm not Baledor Goldenstein," Rhena said indignantly. "It's amazing enough that I can do these spells; you can't expect me to expand on their properties as well."

"Why make things complicated?" Jespar asked from his fur. He had stuck a blade of grass in his mouth, twirling it idly between his teeth. "You don't have to re-invent the wheel; just learn the second detection spell that works on Lost Ones and other undead. Problem solved."

Rhena sat up straight, staring at him. "There is a detection spell for Lost Ones?!"

"Of course there is."

"What...are you kidding me?! Couldn't you have told me this sooner?!"

"You literally could have just asked any travelling arcanist, Mydame..."

"I didn't even consider the possibility. For some reason I had it stuck in my head that undead just couldn't be detected." Rhena burrowed her face in her hands. "Prophet's ass, I could have spared myself so much trouble!"

Jespar laughed out loud. "Mydame, I understand your frustration. But might I just point out that that is a very unfortunate curse for your person to be using?"

Rhena briefly looked at him in confusion. Then understanding dawned on her face and she actually _blushed_. "Shit, didn't think about that, either," she muttered.

Calia couldn't help but be endeared. This was a side of her friend that she normally didn't get to see. "You've started cursing a lot, Sa'ira. You picked that up from Firespark, didn't you?" she teased.

"Lishari, actually." Rhena corrected.

“Same difference.” Jespar lay down on the cover, looking up at the evening sky. “But I have to admit, you have learned a lot in your short time here. Just look at this setup: A lovely, lonely spot under the stars, mysterious invitations, a befitting amount of peaceweed..." He chuckled. "Where _do_ you get your ideas from?"

"Yeah, yeah." Rhena rolled her eyes. "You are the inspiration for everything I do, you got me."

"I'm just saying, the resemblance to mine is _striking_."

"One more clever word and I'll strike you. You brought your pipe?"

"Naturally." Jespar reached into one of his pouches and produced a smoking pipe, along with a not-unsubstantial amount of peaceweed of his own. “I didn’t get the impression you were too fond of this stuff, to be honest.”

“Time and stressful situations change one’s perspective. The occasional pipe every now and then is really quite relaxing, I’ve found.” Rhena admitted, reaching for her own.

"I don't have a pipe." Calia pointed out.

"We can share." Rhena inhaled deeply and blew out a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke, before handing the pipe over to her. "Have you tried peaceweed before?"

"I have. Though not in a while." Calia inspected the instrument critically.

“How long is a while?”

She shrugged. “Years?”

“Oh dear.” The two of them exchanged an amused glance. “Good luck.”

Calia sent them a challenging look and drew on the pipe. Immediately some of the smoke went up her nose and she had a coughing fit. Rhena chuckled knowingly, and Calia retaliated by kicking her side. "Shut up."

After a couple of tries, the smoking came easier. She handed the pipe back to Rhena, who inhaled deeply and then breathed out a wobbly smoke ring. It drifted up into the night sky, staying remarkably stable. Calia looked after it absentmindedly, reminded that the three of them would be floating up there soon, as well. It was a strange thought.

“Not bad.” Jespar complimented her companion’s smoke ring. There was a couple of seconds’ silence. Then a thin thread of smoke rose from his position, floating upwards and forming a perfect spiral above them.

“Show-off,” Rhena complained. She passed the pipe to Calia, who resolved to not even try to compete. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the sweet smell that she only dimly remembered.

It was the middle of the Departure, and the night already carried a hint of the cold air that was to come in the coming moons. It wasn’t yet chilly, but Calia guessed that they would be grateful for the fire, once the last lingering warmth of the day had vanished. Lying here like this, looking up at the night sky, it was impossible to judge the time. Calia found that that fact didn’t bother her. She couldn’t tell whether it was the peaceweed, but she did feel relaxed. It was a bit strange not spending her evening in the Scuola training, but this felt like a good kind of strange. Passing the smoking pipe back and forth with her Sa’ira, her slow exhales and the warmth of the fire had a pleasantly tiring effect. The light buzz of the ale presumably also played a part. Calia looked up at the stars, an idle smile playing on her lips.

A familiar prickling sensation on the back of her neck made her turn her head to Rhena. The other woman was watching her, propped up on her elbow. Calia had missed when she had let her hair down, but it was now falling freely around her face, threatening to entangle with the smoking pipe. It was such a different look than the Sa’ira Calia usually got to see on their missions that she simply allowed herself to look at it for a moment. “What?” she eventually asked when Rhena made no move to say anything. It came out little above a whisper – talking any louder somehow felt wrong.

“Nothing.” Rhena shifted a little, a smile breaking on her face. “You look happy.”

“I think I am.”

“Good.” Rhena yawned and raised a lazy fist of victory. “Mission accomplished!”

Calia laughed. “Idiot,” she complained fondly.

“Hmhm.” Rhena hummed in confirmation and closed her eyes.

They lay in companionable silence. At least, mostly companionable. Because, despite the peaceweed and the alcohol, Calia’s mind had suddenly started to race again. She wanted to keep enjoying this moment, but at the same time she was scared for it to end. She wondered if she was reading too much into things. She wondered if, to her companion, the silence suddenly felt so loud as well.

She wondered if Rhena would mind if she rolled over the small distance between them and kissed her.

This kind of thought wasn’t new. At first Calia had thought that she was imagining it. But as time passed, it became harder to ignore, or to chalk it up to the growing bond between battle sisters. When she and Rhena talked or fought together, sometimes there would be these...moments. Moments where their eyes would meet and Calia would feel this warm feeling deep in her chest, and this odd urge to laugh aloud with happiness. She hadn't dared to give that feeling a name. If she had, it would have become one more for her to control. She couldn’t afford that. And after Castle Dal'Galar - well, she had done her best to banish all thought of it from her mind.

But Calia was tired of chastising herself, and there had been a moment down in the tunnels when she had resolved to stop doing it, at least for a feeling that felt so simply – good. She felt _good_ when her Sa’ira conjured this feeling inside her, and that couldn’t be a bad thing. More importantly, though, she didn't think it was just her. In Rhena's looks and her kind words, she thought she noticed them, too. These hints of something more. Maybe she should just sit up and…

“ _Never walked back on the road, from the Aged Man’s abode_ …” Jespar broke off and cleared his throat. “Blazes. Sorry. I know; I can’t sing.”

Calia blinked, rudely awakened from her imagined act of courage. She pulled her arms close to her body, struck with an absurd worry than anyone could have heard her thoughts. Seconds felt like they passed like hours, but nobody said anything.

“Mydame Prophetess,” Jespar’s voice broke the silence for a second time after a while, “the fire is starting to burn down.”

“On it.” Rhena reported sleepily. She gave a long sigh. Then she shook her hair out of her face and sat up, waiting for the mercenary to throw a few more logs onto the pile. Once he was done, flames appeared around her fingers and she started fuelling the fire, making embers scatter into the night air.

Calia closed her eyes, letting out her held breath. Then she reluctantly sat up as well. She stared into the fire, as if somewhere in the flames were hidden a way for her to turn back time. Calia wouldn’t ask for much; just one minute into the past would have been enough, to tell her stupid past self to move. She hadn’t thought of herself as an indecisive person. Why did she have to be now, of all times? But now the moment was gone.

“This is…really nice.” she tried after a while, turning from the fire to her Sa’ira. Because it _was_ nice, and she was resolved not to let her own doubts cast a shadow over it.

“Yes,” Rhena agreed. Her eyes wouldn’t quite meet Calia’s. She uncorked one of the mead bottles and lifted it to her lips, taking a deep swig.

“How did you get the Keepers to approve this little camp fire, anyway?” Jespar inquired.

“Uh…Honestly, I didn’t even consider that.” Rhena shrugged. “We’ll deal with that problem if it becomes one. I doubt they’ll begrudge their Prophetess a little downtime on the eve of battle.”

“You’re really relying on your elevated status.” Jespar nodded at the building behind them. “With how stingy the Order is about everything else, I’m willing to bet that there’s strict rules on setting up campfires right next to the Sun Temple."

"See if they can stop us."

Calia snorted, amused despite herself. "Sa'ira?" she asked.

"Hm?"

"Were you always this foolhardy, or is that a recent, Prophetess thing?"

"Oh, I can confirm that it's the former." Jespar jumped in helpfully. He gave Calia a nudge with his boot, sending her a conspiratory grin. "I pretty much dragged her out of the shrubbery exactly like this. This one woke up and just instantly started denouncing the Lightborn, doubting my selfless help and jabbering about some strange visions; all before even taking a breath. A slightly less open-minded person than me might have called her mad."

"You did, if I remember correctly," Rhena said dryly. "But he's kind of right. Sometimes my mouth just runs ahead of my brain; always has. The only new development is that I now have the power to back it up."

"And, you know, you have saviour of the world status here," Jespar reminded her. "Even so you've managed to step on more people's toes than even I thought possible."

"It's a talent of mine." Rhena started absentmindedly tearing out grass and throwing it aside. "When I was still a nobody on the streets of Ostian, my mouth always got me into trouble. Back then I didn't have any magic and barely a shred of combat ability - I still have a lot of scars from that time."

"Really?" Calia inquired curiously. She had only seen one: a small, light mark that ran across Rhena’s jaw. She had only spied it by chance, of course; it wasn’t like she spent a lot of time looking at her companion’s face.

Rhena nodded, cocking her head as she noticed Calia's curiosity. She threw away the last grass and leaned a little closer to the fire, raising a finger to point at the tattoo on her left cheek. Calia had seen those two black stripes that ran down from her companion’s eyes a hundred times, but she had never thought much of it. Then Rhena turned her head slightly and, with her cheek thrown into sharp relief, Calia saw the uneven skin underneath the paint. She drew in a sharp breath as she saw how deep the twin cuts were and how far up towards Rhena’s eye they ran. “What did that?”

“One of the Ostian priestesses. She aimed to cut my eye out with an icicle.”

“Why?!”

“It’s a very stupid reason.” Rhena sighed. “The priestess thought I had been making…advances on her daughter, and had me strung up in their dungeon. I thought that in the civilized world, simply talking to nobles was no longer a punishable offense, but as you can see, that woman was of a different opinion. Luckily the daughter intervened and convinced her to stop.” She drew back from the fire, a slightly cross look on her face as she looked at Calia and Jespar. “Anyway, since that’s a rather embarrassing story for a battle scar, I opted to cover it with a tattoo. I hope you two recognize the trust I’m showing you in telling you!”

“My lips are sealed, Mydame.” Jespar promised.

“Were you?” Calia prompted, before she could stop herself. “Making advances on the priestess’ daughter?”

Rhena’s eyes became a little clouded. “Well, she was feisty, clever, beautiful…” She shook her head. “But no, in the instance where the priestess came across us, I was honestly not doing anything. With hindsight, I wish I had been. Then at least I’d have earned the scar.”

“The tattoo looks good on you, though,” Calia said, managing to keep her voice even. She had gotten her answer. She turned to the campfire once more, just in case Rhena was looking at her too closely. Sometimes that look seemed to have mind-reading powers.

Jespar nodded. "Impressive tattoo, and a mildly impressive scar. But I think I got you beat." He reached for his collar and tugged at his armour, revealing a singular, jagged scar on his neck.

Rhena whistled. "That looks like it came close to killing you."

"That was the intention. I wasn't wearing clothes at the time, so it only missed my jugular by inches. Qyranian women can be deadly if you catch them in a foul mood." He glanced at Rhena. "Meaning no offense."

"None taken. I consider myself quite deadly, foul mood or no."

"Lover's quarrel?" Calia inquired. Jespar seemed like the type.

"No. Actually, the woman in question was a healer and supposed to stitch me up from a previous fight." Jespar shrugged. "I might have made a comment about the magnitude of her ears. How could I know that that would be such a sensitive topic!"

Next to Calia, her Sa'ira scoffed. "For someone as well-travelled as you, you sure have some significant cultural blind spots. In parts of Qyra it is considered extremely rude to comment on another's physique, at least before the third candlelight dinner. And comments about the ears, especially when spoken with ridicule, will earn you either a resentful glare or a dagger to the neck, depending on the person's temper."

Jespar shrugged. "You live and you learn, I guess. Or in some cases, you almost die and you learn."

" _You_ seem to know about Qyranian customs, but you grew up in Nehrim, right?" Calia asked her friend curiously. "Have you ever been to Qyra?"

Rhena's look became slightly wistful. "No. I would like to go, someday. I've heard the most incredible stories..."

"As long as you don't put too much stock by them," Jespar advised. "Most stories are wildly exacerbated and contain at best a grain of the original truth. At least in my experience.” He nodded at Rhena. “You'll be a story too, someday."

"You mean, _we_ will be." Rhena said.

"History usually doesn't record the heroic mercenary helping the hero." The ‘heroic mercenary’ gave a sly grin. "Which I am completely fine with, by the way. Fame seems to attract all kinds of people you don’t want to have around you. And getting recognized in every inn and tavern would threaten both my job and my modesty."

Calia snorted. "What modesty?"

"He sure has a curious understanding of that concept." her Sa'ira agreed with her. There was a devious smile playing on her lips. "But don't fault him. You have to remember; he's nobility."

Jespar sent her a glare. “We agreed never to bring that up, Mydame.”

“I will do it if you present me with such an irresistible opportunity.”

Calia looked between the two of them, debating whether she should even ask. She decided not to. Considering everything she had already learned about these two people whom she was sharing an oddly nice evening with, it would likely only lead to more questions and more confusion. A quiet laugh escaped her, drifting into the night air.

“Was that for my nobility joke?”

“No.” Calia looked at Rhena. “I was just thinking that even storytellers would probably not believe this amalgamation of strange stories that we are bringing to the table, Sa’ira.”

Rhena’s eyes widened. She snapped her fingers: “That reminds me!” She abruptly jumped to her feet. “I still have to prove something to you, don’t I?”

She concentrated for a moment and then made a short hand gesture. There was a loud noise and a spectral rift appeared in the air between them. Calia had gotten used to this by now. Only, to her surprise, instead of the huge black bear that her friend usually summoned, there was now suddenly a pig standing in front of her. It turned around its own axis until it was facing Calia and looked up at her with big, button eyes.

"See?" Rhena grinned triumphantly. "Calia, meet Cuthbert. Cuthbert, Calia."

" _Oink_." said Cuthbert.

"Uhm...hello." Calia greeted him. Cuthbert cocked his head in response, as if sizing her up. She managed to look away from the pig and at her friend. "You can actually summon a spectral pig." she stated.

"Told you."

Jespar was looking from Rhena, to Calia, to the ghost pig. “Have I missed something? I’m intrigued, but also very confused.”

“It’s a longer story,” Rhena said.

“And slightly stupid as well,” Calia added.

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Jespar muttered. He glanced around their small rectangle. “We are a very odd group,” he surmised.

Rhena nodded proudly. “All the better. This makes me think that the High Ones can’t possibly have seen us coming. We have basically already won!”

“You are one incurable optimist.”

“You wound me. Do you not believe in our combined ability to stop the end of the world?”

“I don’t think there’s a whole lot left that I wouldn’t believe,” Jespar stated. “But I will point out that it still looks like an uphill battle to me. Don’t start selling the vatyr’s hide before you’ve killed it. When did I become the cautious one of the group?”

Apparently Rhena had resolved that this campfire was no place for worries about the uncertainty that they would be facing tomorrow. “That might be a sign that the world is actually ending,” she joked. “But I’m still convinced that somehow, there has to be something good at the end of all this. Someday, though, you should write your wisdoms down somewh… Hey! Cuthbert, no!” She interrupted herself to scold the spectral pig, who had started to munch on her stack of peaceweed.

The pig looked up at her, looking thoroughly unimpressed, and continued.

“Let him.” Jespar chuckled. “I doubt we’ll manage to smoke it all tonight, anyway. I’m feeling a certain tiredness approaching after this, frankly, horribly draining week.”

Calia could only agree. She too felt drained, not to even speak of her Sa’ira. “I’ll just be glad when this whole thing is over. It will be good to be able to breathe again without having to worry about what the next hour could bring,” she voiced.

“That has basically been my constant state of mind since I washed up on Enderal.” Rhena nodded solemnly. A telling yawn interrupted her for a brief moment. “But jokes aside; I’m ready for some peace and quiet, too.” She looked to Calia. “What do you say; let’s just take a vacation and excuse ourselves from meddling in world affairs for a while, after this is done?”

“See, _there_ is one thing I don’t believe.” Jespar chuckled.

The two women both asked at the same time, “Why is that?”

“Well, for one,” Jespar raised a finger, “seems to me like the world would be pretty screwed if you did. For two, between the three of us we have already ruffled enough feathers that we’ll have angry birds to deal with for the rest of our days – which doesn’t work as well as a metaphor as I thought, but you know what I’m saying – and finally, for three,” he pointedly looked at the two of them in turn, “I’m pretty sure you are physically incapable of letting the world do its own thing; not as long as you see that there’s something wrong with it. And there’s always something wrong. So there.”

Calia didn’t quite know what to say to that. Neither – a rare enough thing for her – did her Sa’ira. They exchanged a glance, looking to see if the other had any rebuke to Jespar’s analysis. Neither did. A guilty grin appeared on Rhena’s lips, and Calia found it mirrored on her own. There was some grain of truth to what the mercenary had said, she had to admit.

A noise from behind them made the two of them turn around. It came from Cuthbert. Calia saw that he had abandoned the peaceweed in favour of digging through one of her companion’s pouches. The satisfied grunts coming from inside the pouch told her that he had been successful.

"Blasted blazes!” Rhena hurried over to yank the pouch out of the pig’s reach. She inspected it, her face quickly growing more distressed while Cuthbert gave one last content grunt and dissolved on the spot. “Now he's eaten the sodding mushrooms, too!"

Jespar snorted, and Rhena spun around to him, evidently ready to turn her ire on someone who actually took notice of it. "What?"

"Nothing. Just drop your voice down a couple of octaves, give you a bushy beard, and it’s like listening to Firespark himself.”

"Maybe," Rhena conceded. "The old man had a way with words. And Cuthbert just ate all my mushrooms!" she repeated crossly.

"I never saw the appeal in eating mushrooms, anyway." Calia shrugged.

"...I need those for my potions," Rhena muttered, sitting back down on the fur. In that moment she looked less like the hero of Enderal and more like a petulant child.

Calia scooted over a little to pat her back in comfort. “You’ll be fine, Sa’ira. I’ve seen you come out of so many impossible situations; I doubt a spectral pig eating your alchemy supplies will be what dooms you.”

Rhena made a disapproving noise, not sounding convinced. Then she leaned her head on Calia’s shoulder. “Thanks for your reassurance,” she muttered sleepily.

“Any- anytime,” Calia managed. Unlike her, Rhena seemed to have no issues with personal space.

She couldn’t help but notice that her hair smelled of wood smoke

“No, really.” Rhena lifted her head a little. Her emerald eyes were clouded over with a sleepy haze, but still perfectly sincere. “I said it like a joke, but I meant it. You doubt yourself so much, but somehow you still managed to be there for me whenever I needed advice. You’re strong, whether you want to believe it or not. Only, I don’t know how to repay you for it. I don’t think I would have made it this far without you.”

“I think you would have,” Calia said. Lightborn help her, this woman made it impossible not to fall for her. She saw Rhena’s eyes about to close and tapped her forehead to keep her attention. “Hey. Sa’ira, I’ll always be there for you, and you don’t need to repay me. You- you see me. Sometimes I think you see me better than I can see myself.” Calia gave a quiet smile. “That means a lot. More than I think you realize.”

Rhena blushed and looked at her feet. “Seeing you is not exactly painful. I’ll gladly keep it up, if you allow me to stick around.”

Again the hint of something more. Calia felt her heart starting to beat faster. “Until we’ve stopped the Cleansing, you mean?”

“Or after.” Rhena gave an embarrassed shrug, her hair tickling Calia’s neck. “If you would want me to.”

Calia didn’t dare to look down at her. “I would. I would like that,” she whispered, anxious to break this spell.

“Good.” Rhena smiled at her and yawned heavily. “Me too.”

 _I love you_.

Calia took a deep breath, gathering her courage. "Sa'ira, I...there's something I have to tell you."

Rhena didn't respond. When Calia looked at her, she saw that her eyes were closed and she was breathing evenly. The exhaustion had finally taken its toll.

Calia felt a sense of disappointment. This was most likely the last moment of calm before the storm; the last chance she’d had to say something. She would stand by her Sa’ira through whatever happened tomorrow, and perhaps she could somehow make it clear to Rhena how she felt, but this moment around the campfire wouldn't repeat itself.

Unless Rhena was right and they somehow prevailed.

Calia sighed. She gently lifted her companion’s head to lay her down on the fur. She followed suit, aiming to make a little space between them. Even asleep, Rhena apparently needed to have the last word about this, though: she made a sleepy noise of protest and snuggled deeper into Calia’s shoulder as she was lying down. Now she could barely move without waking her up.

Somewhat helpless, Calia looked over to Jespar. The mercenary was watching them with a hint of amusement. A subtle smile was playing around his mouth. "Your shoulder is going to be numb tomorrow," he stated. He yawned heartily. "But I suppose that’s worth it. You should sleep, too. I have a feeling we'll all need our strength for what's coming."

Calia looked down at her companion. Rhena looked oddly peaceful. Maybe the nightmares were leaving her alone for tonight. Calia hoped so. Without thinking, she put her arm around her to make her more comfortable. Her fingers came up to Rhena’s cheek, carefully tracing the tattoo and the scars underneath. There was so much Calia still didn’t know about her. So much that she still wanted to ask her, if she got the chance.

After a moment's hesitation, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Rhena murmured sleepily. This time it didn't sound like protest.

Calia felt a smile tug at her mouth. "Something good," she whispered to her sleeping companion.

Maybe. Just maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> There's more to this story, but I've been writing at this for weeks already and it's getting way too long. I just fell head over heels in love with this game and with the character of Calia - and with Jespar, for that matter, who will make an appearance in the next part. 
> 
> It's been a long time since any game has left me feeling this empty inside after the ending. But in the good 'Well, what the hell do I do now' kind of way. I can't praise the mod creators enough for this; I don't think I can go back to vanilla Skyrim after experiencing this story. I think the fanbase for Enderal is way smaller than it deserves, and the part of it that visits AO3 is probably even smaller, but I just wanted to write something about these characters and put it up somewhere. Maybe someone finds as much joy in this as I do. For now, I'll just see that I finish the rest of this and then I'll be checking out Dreams of the Dying.


End file.
